Merlin: The Light of Eriador
by HighEmpress
Summary: Set between S2 and S3. Merlin is cursed by a mysterious man.  Meanwhile, a new party arrives in Camelot, bringing a new threat along with it. Now with his magic seriously impaired, Merlin must still protect Arthur against a dark druid. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Hi !

Here's my first Merlin _fanfiction_. Please bear with me as I have only watched Seasons 1 and 2. I'm still trying to find a suitable website to watch Season 3; feel free to offer some.

I'm usually a Harry Potter writer ("Harry Potter and the Archway of the Dead", "Harry Potter and the Dream Book"). I will try to update as often as I can, but please remember that I do have a day job.

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Merlin.

Enjoy.

HighEmpress

_There are things in this world of a mysterious nature. Events that may seem like a coincidence can change the course of a person's life for the better, or send an entire world into darkness and chaos. Is it chance? Is it destiny? And if there is a greater design, then is there such a thing as free will, or are we all just puppets of the same master?__ How can we make the right choices without knowing the end? _

_The wisest of the wise do not know the answer to those questions._

_Except one. _

MELIN: The Light of Eriador

Merlin crashed into his bed and felt the tiredness overpower him the moment his head hit the pillow. The day's countless hours of labour had left him sore and mentally exhausted. He had depleted his extensive collection of witty substitutes for "prat" to the point where he could not think of a synonym that he hadn't use at least twice. On the bright side, he had succeeded in annoying Arthur all day; on the other hand, he had brought upon himself an abundance of additional shores that his body would have happily lived without.

All he wanted was to close his eyes and not think about anything only for a few minutes, until he fell deeply…

"You're not going to sleep now, are you?"

Without seeing him, he could easily imagine Gaius standing in the threshold with his arms folded and a scolding look.

"I sure am," he grumbled without opening his eyes.

"You're not taking your studies seriously, Merlin. I gave you books and they are not so that you can use them to pile up clothes."

Merlin glanced sideways at what he knew to be the resting place of three or four of old and voluminous books which were now covered by a lump of blue, red and brown fabric.

"I have to mend those."

"You're not going to become a good physician if you don't bother to learn the basics," said Gaius while taking a step into Merlin's chambers.

The comment made Merlin spring and sit in his bed to face his old mentor.

"I'm not having that conversation," he protested grumpily. "I'm much too tired."

Gaius had grown more and more restless and conscious of his age, which had resulted in Merlin showing more enthusiasm than what he was actually feeling just to cheer him up. One thing leading to another, Merlin's new attitude had also resulted in the birth of a whole new idea in Gaius's mind: Merlin the Physician. Gaius was now insisting that Merlin spent more time studying anatomy, herbs, potions and everything else that was important for the position. What had started as a trivial comment about the future had turned into and obsession and now the young sorcerer wished he had never opened the door to the possibility at all.

"_Merlin_," said Gaius pointedly, enunciating the surname as he did when matters were serious, "you can easily imagine that someday I may not be here and…"

The young man slouched back unto his bed and buried his face in the pillow. "I'm not listening."

He could hear Gaius pace around the room.

"That's very mature, Merlin. Maybe you do not see yourself as Prince Arthur's manservant all your life, but I guarantee you that you're going to be court physician long before you become court sorcerer."

"No, I'm not," said Merlin, annoyed. "I'm going to be _King_ Arthur's manservant before I am court physician, and that is assuming that I'll be court physician at all, which I very much doubt. I'd rather be court sorcerer. That would just be…"

He couldn't help it. The idea was making him smile.

"Tell me, what will happen to King Arthur when he catches a fever in the winter and there is no physician to know what to give him."

"You'll be there."

He knew that the retort was irrational, but there was no way he was going to go down that line of thought, not tonight when he knew how much work he was going to have to do in the morning. He was sure he had heard something about polishing the floors before the arrival of Uther's guests. He was sore all over. How could he possibly study in that state?

Now he wished that he knew some healing spells, but Gaius was still there and he hadn't given up yet. "I'm making a tonic for King Uther. You're going to help me."

"I'd rather cast an enchantment, it's much easier," he mumbled with his head still on the pillow.

"Merlin!" cried Gaius. "You're not getting out of this, not this time."

"Tomorrow, Gaius, please. Uther's guests will be here by nightfall, Arthur will be busy, and you'll have me all to yourself."

"You've had weeks to prepare. It starts tonight, Merlin."

"I'm just going to let my head rest here for a while…"

He let his voice trail. His eyes were so heavy. He imagined that he was cleaning the floors with magic_. That would be nice_, he thought_. So easy…_

"Merlin!"

_What's the point? Gaius is going to win this._

"Fine!" he cried a little more forcefully than he had intended.

As though answering to his word, a surge of magic swept the floor in one powerful swirl of wind, sending clouds of dust, Arthur's clothing and a good number of books flying out of Merlin's bedroom and into Gaius' chambers. Merlin got to his feet at once and raised his hand. The command was instantaneous: the objects stopped in midair, as though frozen in time. A pair of red socks was floating in front of Merlin's eyes.

"I was wondering where those were," he said happily, marveling at his accomplishment.

One glance at Gaius was enough to wipe the smile off his face. The old man was walking around his chambers, observing the numerous objects that were floating as though each of them was attached to an invisible string. Actually, Merlin realized, all the shelves, tables, and stools were empty. Everything that Gaius owned, every small object, was hanging in the space between the floor and ceiling, strangely out of place, like some odd dream. The look on Gaius' face was hard to read, but his face was pale.

"Gaius?"

The old physician put a finger on a book, but the object kept hovering like a soap bubble. He seemed lost in his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin. "I know I shouldn't be doing that. I lost control, I think. It won't happen again."

Gaius looked at him inquiringly.

"Can you put it back? Can you sort it and put every object in its rightful place?"

Merlin didn't try to contain his shock.

"Gaius! Are you actually asking me what I think you're asking me?"

Gaius strode to the door and bolted it.

"Now would be a good time, Merlin."

It only took a few seconds for the young wizard to come up with the right words. Then he raised his hand for the second time and his eyes turned gold as he spoke. Magic always seemed to take birth inside of him, like that surge that had turned Gaius' chamber inside and out. He felt it through his every limb, a rush forward, like an extension of his own body. All of the items that were floating zoomed in different directions, some of them lining up on shelves, some others folding themselves neatly on a table. A miniature wind swirl danced across the floor, gathering all the dust and dirt. Merlin bent down and put the palm of his hand above a wooden bucket and suddenly it was filled with water, and then the small twister of debris and soot stopped just above the container and plunged inside.

"That will do, Merlin."

As quickly as it had come, Merlin felt the gush of magic to diminish and become nothing but a whisper, a pulse.

"Your spring cleaning is done," he announced, every part of him radiating with pride.

He only wished that Gaius wouldn't look so thoughtful.

"Have you even noticed it?" asked the old man, seating down on a stool.

"Noticed what?"

"Your magic, Merlin! How powerful it has become."

Merlin took the opposite seat and glanced around at the room, trying to see if he had missed something that Gaius hadn't. The floors were not shining. He had though that using his magic for polishing might be too much of a stretch. After all, Gaius' asking him to use magic for a chore was a big step and he didn't want to spoil it.

"I don't see how this is any different from everything else that I've been doing."

Gaius took his most serious tone. "Merlin, when you first came here, you didn't know any spells. You could do magic by instinct. Moving things around is powerful magic, even for an average sorcerer."

"Are you saying I'm average?" laughed Merlin. "That certainly is new."

"You really have no idea, do you? Men much older and much more disciplined than you are have struggled for years to cast spells that are as easy as tying your shoes to you. Not only do you know the words, but you play with them, mix them, and make them work for the purpose that you choose. The complexity of what you just did, it's just… unheard of."

Merlin felt as though a dark veil had been cast upon him, a weight on his shoulder. It was the same weight he felt every time he stopped to think about how his and Arthur's destinies were intertwined. It was something thick and deep that he couldn't penetrate. He knew that one day, he would unravel the mystery, but he just didn't feel up to it yet.

"What are you saying, Gaius? I'm powerful; we both know I'm powerful. It doesn't mean anything. It's just what I am."

"Magic draws magic, Merlin. The more potent you become, the more enemies and dark sorcerers will be drawn here."

"Are you saying I'm dangerous?"

"No!" Gaius grabbed his hand between his. "No, you must never think that. I'm just saying that you have to be more careful. It may be time for you to start thinking beyond the words, to try to understand magic, as opposed to simply using it."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

He wanted to add 'and protect Arthur at the same time', but he stopped. This wasn't Gaius' fault.

"I'm not sure, Merlin. My instincts tell me that you should try to feel more. Feel your magic, and then you may be able to see how far it goes."

"Isn't that opposite to keeping my magic a secret?" But seeing Gaius look so troubled, he thought that maybe the witty remark wasn't really appropriate. "I think I will try," he offered.

"Good," replied Gaius with a faint smile. "As long as you don't do anything stupid like showing off in front of the whole court, I don't see . Now, I will get what you need to start working on Uther's tonic."

As he watched his mentor open an old and voluminous book and drop it in front of him with a _thud_, Merlin couldn't help mutter under his breath. "Gaius, _one_. Merlin, _zero_."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Merlin woke up with a start. It was like having a bell ringing inside his head. The voice was strong and commanding. He had never heard anything like it.

_Merlin_.

Suddenly sitting up straight in his bed, Merlin pressed both hands over his hears and suppressed a groan of pain as the voice repeated his name more forcefully.

_I'm waiting for you__, Merlin. Get up!_

He didn't want to follow, but he wanted the pain to stop. Before he even realized it, he was out of his bed and walking, or rather, he was stumbling forward through Gaius' chambers. Cold sweat was running down his back. He had a vague memory of cleaning Gaius' chambers with magic, and then falling asleep in his dirty clothes after completely failing at making Uther's tonic. But that was hours ago. Now it was night. Only a few candles were burning. There was not a sound in the castle, except the voice in Merlin's head.

_Do not stop__!_ _I'm waiting. Now, Merlin! _

As he heard the deep voice again, Merlin felt a will other than his own take hold of his body. He plummeted forward, falling hopelessly over a stool and sending a few plates and glass phials unto the stone floor with a clattering noise. He immediately thought of Gaius, but as he glanced around the room, he saw no sign of the old physician and his bed was empty. He was alone.

Merlin looked down at his hands and they were shaking against the stone floor.

The voice rang again. _Merlin!_

He knew that he had to resist it, but his mind was being pulled by an invisible force.

"Gaius, help me!" he cried out.

He knew it was useless. Even if he came, what could Gaius do against such a strong magic?

_Give up now, Merlin. __Come to me._

"No!" said Merlin between gritted teeth.

_You cannot win this._

He felt darkness overcome him. As much as he wanted to keep resisting the commanding voice, his body was shutting down. He was pinned to the ground, frozen on all fours, unable to go further or even to get up. It was a battle of wills and he was loosing it.

A drop of sweat fell to the ground and landed between his hands. And suddenly, it wasn't a stone floor anymore. It was _grass_. He felt the cold night wind ruffle his hair, and somehow, the hold on his body seemed to lessen. The new awareness of his surroundings made him straighten up. As he glanced around, he saw that he was no longer in Gaius' chambers; instead, he was standing on a field just outside of Camelot. Behind him, he could see the outline of the city walls, but in front of him, it was utterly black.

And he hated the fact that he had no memory of even getting up or leaving the castle.

"Show yourself!" he shouted, anger boiling inside him.

There was movement in front of him; someone was hiding under the cover of darkness. Merlin heard the distinct sound of approaching footsteps.

"What do you want with me?" he asked bitterly. White smoke was coming out of his mouth and he was shivering with cold.

The person in front of him stepped into the moonlight. The imposing figure seemed somewhat familiar, but the man kept his hood up, covering all of his face.

"Who are you?"

"I don't remember ever being that young,"

The voice wasn't in his head this time, but he still felt as though he was being compelled to stay where he was.

"You got me this far. Why won't you answer my questions?"

A cold wind blew around them. Or was it magic? Merlin could feel magic radiating from the man as though they were both standing in the same circle.

"I'm sorry, Merlin." The man's voice was bitter, strained. "You've got to be stopped."

Then the hooded man whispered some words and Merlin felt rooted on the spot. He could not move. He tried not to think, aware that his intentions might be revealed to the other sorcerer. With a loud crack, he forced a branch of a nearby tree to brake and fall, hoping that it would knock down is attacker. But his efforts were fruitless. His opponent waved his hand and the branch twirled and landed somewhere out of sight.

"You cannot fight me, Merlin."

"You don't know me!" he shouted.

As he spoke, he used his thundering voice to gather some magic around him, but the man was quick to counter his efforts. He spoke again, and this time Merlin felt a pressure on his chest. Pain was building up inside of him, making it hard to move, hard to breathe, hard to think. The other sorcerer was doing _something_ to him, and he didn't know what to do.

"What do you want from me?" he cried out, but his voice did not carry very far. He felt powerless and out of breath. His vision was beginning to blur. He fell to his knees.

"I wish it hadn't come to this, Merlin."

If only he could reach deep inside to find the voice of the Dragonlord within him…

"The Great Dragon will not help you. I told him to stay out of this and he seemed happy to."

The sorcerer was standing close to him now. Merlin could see the outline of his worn out brown boots and the rim of his dirty cloak floating in the wind.

"You came a long way just to finish me off," he scolded between two intakes of breath.

"For what it's worth, it's going to hurt me too… I think. I can't be sure…"

Not wanting to waste what might be his last opportunity, Merlin raised his shaking fingers and, summoning all of the magic that he could in his weakened condition, he pushed a wave of energy that knocked the other sorcerer backwards. The efforts knocked all the winds out of his lungs and he fell, gaping for air, with his face in the grass.

It only took a few seconds for Merlin to realize that his efforts had been wasted. The strong man walked back to him in less time than it took Merlin to catch his breath.

"I know it's hard to understand especially right now, but I'm doing this for your own good."

Cold and powerless, Merlin was only able to grumble the words 'no you're not', and then his vision blackened and he knew no more.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Gaius couldn't help mutter under his breath as he picked up another piece of broken glass from under his shoe.

"_Merlin_…" he signed.

The young wizard's absence would not go unnoticed on a day like this. Yet, there was still no sign of Merlin. The door to his small bedroom was ajar and Gaius could see the first sunbeams touching the empty bed. Since the middle of the night, when he had returned from attending to Uther, Gaius had been without news of his ward. He had slept uneasily, keeping an ear out for the noise Merlin was certain to make when he returned, but there had been no such disturbance.

There was no reason to worry, except for a few fallen plates and broken phials, which was typical of Merlin. After all, his young apprentice was more than able to take care of himself. In fact, Gaius thought halfheartedly, Merlin's magic had grown much since he had first met him. He sometimes wondered whether or not he should encourage it. He had seen great men being thwarted by their own power. But what of Merlin? Was he really so different? The answer to that question came naturally and seemed to ease his mind a little.

Gaius picked up a small piece of mirror, no bigger than a shard, and looked at his face to appraise his overall appearance. The party that was arriving today, King Ulrik's party, was of some importance to Uther and the whole castle had been polished accordingly. Gaius had only learned about it while delivering a sleeping draught to Uther at around midnight, and now he felt that he had been a little harsh on Merlin, considering the amount of work that all the servants had put into making Camelot as welcoming as possible.

"Gaius?"

"Merlin! Where have you been? Have you no notion of… Are you all right?"

Merlin was standing awkwardly in the threshold, looking white-faced and disheveled. Gaius hurried towards him and he arrived just in time to catch the young man as he swayed sideways and stumbled on a nearby chair. As he caught his arm to help him sit down, Gaius checked his pulse through his wrist. _Steady but weak, too weak…_

"Take it easy, Merlin. You're not well."

Merlin's face was blank and his voice was hoarse.

"I don't even remember how I got here."

"Are you hurt? How does this feel?"

"Like being jabbed in the eye. Ow!"

Gaius was probing him, checking his pupils, prying on his every limb, looking for the trace of an injury, the hint of a fever.

"Did you knock your head? Did you fall off a horse?"

"No! I didn't fall off a horse! Why would you think…?"

He stopped, unable to continue. He seemed to be struggling to breathe, and he was clutching his torso.

"Merlin, let me see."

Delicately, Gaius lifted Merlin's hand which was pressed against his side. Merlin winced in pain instantly.

"Hold still. I need to lift your shirt."

"I _am_ holding still. I… I think I'm going to pass out."

But Gaius was only half-listening to his young apprentice. He had just spotted two blue bruises under Merlin's skin, one on each side of his torso.

"What happened, Merlin?"

But as Gaius glanced into Merlin's face, he saw his eyes turn upwards and heard the shallow breathing. Catching the young man under the arms, Gaius wrestled him unto his bed. There were tiny beads of sweat on his forehead. Quickly, Gaius shuffled through his potions and came back with a small phial of a clear liquid which he passed under Merlin's nose. The young man opened his eyes right away, startled to awareness by the strong smell.

"Calm down, Merlin. You passed out. You're struggling to breathe. You need to be seated and you need to hold still."

The young man seemed to finally catch his breath only after Gaius had propped him on three pillows. Once or twice he almost passed out again, but the physician kept him conscious with the smelly potion. When he examined Merlin's torso again, it was at his fingertips, and Merlin shuddered at every touch.

"Well, you've got a few broken ribs," said Gaius at last. "There's blood under the skin so it's possible that you hurt one of your lungs, which I'm not too happy about. Still, blood letting might not be necessary. I think I'll wait twenty-four hours to…"

Merlin's face grew paler, if possible.

"_Blood letting_?"

"Yes, Merlin. If you had studied as I instructed you to…"

"_Blood letting, _Gaius?" he repeated, appalled.

The old man brushed away the idea as though it was of little concern. "It may not come to that if you are careful. Now, tell me what happened to you."

Merlin closed his eyes as he tried to recall the last night's events. Gaius took the opportunity to take his pulse again. Merlin's wrist felt small and shaky in his hand. _This can't be good_… the physician thought anxiously.

"I heard a voice in my head. It was compelling. I couldn't resist it. I tried, Gaius, but it was strong magic, maybe stronger than mine. It took me outside the city walls. A man was there. I couldn't see his face. He did something. I don't know what… "

The young man stopped to take a few painful intakes. His voice was barely audible now. "It was powerful magic. It felt like chains being wrapped around me. And then I was just… _here_. I can't remember anything else."

Gaius pulled up Merlin's shirt again. The blue marks on Merlin's torso seemed to reflect the story he had just told. And if it was all true, then there would certainly be aftereffects.

Without any comment, the physician suddenly got up and went straight into Merlin's room.

"Gaius?"

"Whoever it was that called you outside of the castle, he clearly did something to you, some kind of curse," explained the old man as he was walking back towards Merlin with the book of magic in his hands.

"You think there may be something in there?"

Gaius shot him an irritated look. "Merlin, it is one thing to ignore my books on anatomy or herbs, it's another thing entirely when you neglect the only magical instruction that's available to you."

_There has to be something in there_… thought Gaius as he flipped the book's pages urgently.

He didn't want to panic. He didn't want _Merlin_ to know that he was panicked, but in his experience with different types of illnesses and injuries, he had come to dread curses as much as fevers and coughs. The work of magic was often invisible, but an enchantment powerful enough to leave a physical mark had to be for a dark purpose. Moreover, Merlin's magic was uncommon; he couldn't be sure what kind of hold a spell might have on him.

"I seem to remember at least one magical potion in this book."

"Here, let me…"

Even in his weak state, Merlin was faster than Gaius. He placed his hand over the book so as to search it with his magic, but as soon as the pages began to turn, he winced in pain, his face became white and his eyes fluttered.

"Easy, Merlin…" whispered Gaius as he pressed the young man's shoulders against the pillows again.

It took a few seconds for Merlin to come around again.

"My magic," he began to say, and then his expression became alarmed, "I think it's blocked."

"But you did it. Look! There's the potion," said Gaius and his eyes darted towards the middle of the page where, in a small square, a few ingredients were written.

"I did it," said Merlin, his voice dried, "but it didn't feel right. It hurt, like something was pressing against my chest."

The physician looked again under Merlin's shirt at the bruise. It seemed to have changed in appearance a little. Was it extending? He couldn't be sure. Merlin's pulse was steady and faster than it had been a moment ago. The pain might be just from the broken ribs. He didn't want to make hasty conclusions.

"You'll be all right," said Gaius while getting up.

He patted Merlin's arm a little and took the book to his worktable.

_This potion isn't going to be easy to make_, he thought gravely, _but it should help_.

"That's it?" let out Merlin from across the room where he was still half-sitting on Gaius' bed. "No lecture about _not_ using magic? No warning? No nothing?"

Gaius suppressed a smile, happy that he wasn't as predictable as Merlin seemed to think. After all, there was a lot about him that Merlin didn't know at all.

"You should rest," said Gaius solemnly. And it's 'no lifting of heavy objects'. I'll handle the rest."

"Rest," Merlin sighed happily. "I think I can do that…"

"Like HELL you are!"

Gaius almost dropped the book of magic as he hurried to hide it from the person who was now pushing the door open. Arthur Pendragon came bursting in. He looked livid.

"WELL?" he shouted. He had just stopped at the entrance of Gaius' chambers, as if he didn't even care enough to walk all the way to where his manservant was sitting.

"It looks like you got dressed all right," muttered Merlin with a grin on his face.

"What ROCK did you hit your head on, _Merlin_? Because I sincerely think if you had an ounce of wit left in you, it clearly knocked it out."

Merlin shot Gaius an inquiring look, following which the old physician simply mouthed the word "the guests".

"The… _what_? The guests?"

"YES! The guests!" cried out Arthur, throwing his fists in the air. "King Ulrik's party? You know, the event for which we have been cleaning the castle inside out."

"_We_ meaning _the servants_, of course," muttered Merlin under his breath.

"I've been helping, but only because you WEREN'T THERE!" barked Arthur again, his face red with irritation.

The prince took a few long strides to where Merlin was sitting, and Gaius saw him extend his arm and grab the collar of Merlin's shirt. But as soon as Arthur lifted his manservant off the bed, he stumbled on his legs.

The scolding went on. "You had better have a good reason for why I had to clean my father's throne myself and… Merlin?"

Gaius got next to the prince in time to catch the manservant's arm as he slumped unto the floor, his eyes unfocused. Quickly, the physician passed the phial under the young man's nose and he began to stir.

"What's wrong with him?" whispered Arthur in Gaius' ear.

Gaius forced himself to smile, to look reassuring for the prince's sake. "It's only a few broken ribs, sire, nothing serious. However, I do not recommend any straining tasks. A wrong movement could result in an injury to the lungs, which would seriously worsen his condition."

As Gaius was talking, Merlin opened his eyes. He seemed unsure whether or not he should intervene in the conversation.

"What happened?" asked Arthur while getting up to appraise Merlin's condition for himself.

The young man was clutching his side with one hand and he looked paler and weaker than usual, but otherwise his most defiant grin was on his face.

Arthur was losing his temper again. "Well? _What_ was it?"

"Well, it's none of your…"

"He fell off a… the stairs, sire."

"The _stairs_?"

Gaius threw a pleading look to his young apprentice.

"Yes, the _stairs_," acknowledged Merlin. "I was carrying too many things. I guess I won't be helping with the preparations, then."

"In your _dreams_, Merlin," snapped Arthur.

The second afterwards, the young prince was walking out of Gaius' chambers, muttering to himself. He was clearly annoyed, and Gaius knew that he would have to beg Merlin not to provoke Arthur's temper again.

"I can't move heavy things," yelled Merlin when Arthur had reached the corridor.

"Don't worry, I'll figure _something_."


	4. Chapter 4

_Just a quick thank you to Niphrehdil for writing his fanfiction__s "Friendship called treason" and "Damages" which totally inspired me to write a Merlin story._

_Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Merlin._

Chapter 4

He was standing in the middle of the crowded hall with the strange impression that he was nothing but a tiny bug on a wall, and it was most likely what Arthur had intended.

The sight was impressive. He had never seen the King's hall so agreeably decorated. White flowers in large red clay jars could be seen in every corner. The tapestries had all been brought out and thoroughly cleaned. There were at least a dozen long blazoned red banners hanging from the ceiling. The chandeliers had been lit. Camelot was spotless, the floors were polished and even the servants looked clean. Merlin was wearing the traditional red and gold tunic that he hated, all including the feathered hat. Everything had been made perfect for King Ulrik and his guests who seemed to regard it all with indifference.

Even more shining than the candle lights was King Ulrik's daughter. Merlin had always considered Morgana to be the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. Morgana's disappearance had not changed that fact. However, Ulrik's princess, named Ursulla, had shiny brown and wavy hair, pale skin and a long thin neck around which she wore many jewels. Her dress was a work of art, truly. It sparkled as she walked, or rather as she glided elegantly, here and there, giving away kind words to the many guests, with a particular attention to Arthur.

"I heard the rumor."

Merlin had not seen Guinevere, _Gwen_, standing a little behind him with her back almost against the wall. As he glanced at her, he saw that she wore a red unflattering dress with a gold dragon in the front.

"What rumor?" He tried not to sound too interested.

"That you fell off the stairs."

"Oh, _that_ rumor."

"Is there any other?"

"No, I just… Never mind." He forced himself to smile. "How are you Gwen?"

She did not answer right away, but instead she followed his glance in the direction of Lady Ursulla who was now speaking eagerly to Arthur.

"She is older than him," said Gwen in a quiet voice.

"Is she?"

"Four years older; that's what one of her maids told me. She's got _many_ maids."

They both stopped talking as they heard Lady Ursulla laughing loudly at something Arthur had just said. She was throwing her head back and shaking her curls slowly and Arthur looked around awkwardly. He seemed unsure how he should react.

"Some people have no subtlety."

Gwen's comment made Merlin turn his head and look at her. He thought that he saw a hint of longing in her face, but it was only a fleeting thing.

"Arthur could never be interested in her," he made a point of saying, and weighed every word.

"I know," she said after a second's hesitation.

"Everyone can see she's a snotty proud little daddy's girl."

Gwen smiled. "Don't you think they deserve each other?"

"Probably."

Both of them fell silent for a while as they looked at the happy gathering in King Uther's great hall. The joking seemed to have relieved some of the tension which was arising from the fact that the Lady Ursulla and Prince Arthur seemed to enjoy each other's company.

A feather fell on Gwen's forehead and she giggled.

"I like your flag," she commented.

Merlin looked up. Not only was he wearing the stupid outfit, but he was also standing near the doorway, straight as a pole, and holding up a single nine-feet-tall red blazoned banner.

"Our prince has a good sense of humor," he mumbled between gritted teeth. "He's also self-important, pompous, bigheaded…"

Gwen cut him off. "I get the idea."

"No, you don't," he protested. "I bet you anything he didn't clean Uther's throne this morning."

"Who told you that?"

"_Arthur_."

"And you believed him?"

"No, and that's exactly my point. He does it on purpose, irritating me. So I just have to talk back to him. He's not giving me any choice! I have to tell him what I think of him, because nobody else does."

"All right, I get it!"

"Do you think he actually likes it?"

Gwen looked at him with an amused expression on her face. "Honestly, Merlin. You call _him_ bigheaded? But you can't keep it up, you know. Even Arthur has his limits. It's a wonder you're still his manservant. I hope you have other talents because if you continue, your position here may not last. You will have to find yourself another occupation."

"Gaius already has that covered."

Both of them glanced at the old physician who was talking to a young man wearing a green tunic that was superbly embroidered. He had brown wavy hair, short but very similar in color to Lady Ursulla, except that he was much younger than her in appearance and more humble in manners. In fact, he looked a little awkward; as though the marvelous green blazon and matching cape belonged to someone else.

"That's Odran, King Ulrik's youngest son, and now his only heir. His older brother Godric died almost a year ago, killed by some Druid renegades."

"Druids?" asked Merlin while keeping his eyes on the young prince.

"Apparently, King Ulrik's hatred of magic is similar to King Uther's," said Gwen gloomily.

Merlin sighed. "_Great_."

"You're taking this very lightly, but imagine if the kingdoms of Camelot and Vallonia were to unite."

Merlin couldn't help raising an eyebrow as Gwen glanced tensely in the direction of Arthur and Lady Ursulla. "But that's nothing, Gwen. That's just…"

He didn't finish his sentence. Something else had caught his attention. It was as though someone had thrown a pebble in a pool of magic. He felt a wave of panic crawl on his back. Something was approaching. Something was coming their way. _Fast_.

"Gwen, get down!" he shouted.

At the same time, a green light broke through the highest window of the Great Hall. Shards of glass were sent flying everywhere. But it wasn't only light; it was a large boulder around which was burning a green flame. Merlin pushed Gwen against the wall as the flaming rock landed just a few feet in front of him with a great _crash_. People were screaming and running towards the door. Arthur was protecting the Lady Ursulla with both of his arms, while bellowing to his father and King Ulrik to take cover. Gaius was bent over one of Vallonia's knights who had received a piece of glass on his neck and had collapsed on the floor in a pool of blood. All the while, Merlin's eyes were fixed on the green fire of the rock. And then, he heard a deafening voice:

_Creatures of magic, we are brothers and sisters. __You can find us where the forest is green as it is where our power is stronger. Be free of the walls of stone, become one with the Earth and Sky. If you are one of us, then join us. If you choose to be our enemy, then fear us and die. This is our last offer._

Merlin looked up in time to see that everyone in the hall had covered their ears with their hands, and then it exploded.

The rock in front of him burst with more green flames as though the dark power that it contained was set free. There was a sound like thunder and a blinding light like lightening, and then hell was set loose. The force of it pushed Merlin skywards and back against the wall. He then fell flat on his stomach, the result of which was like having many blades tore through his rib cage. For a fleeting moment, he thought that he was going to faint. His vision became blurry and he could nothing but screams as burst of light stroke again and again, destroying walls, windows, furniture and everything else that got in its path.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Gwen on the ground besides him and she was covered in a cloud of dust. He pressed a hand on her head and said: "Stay down! Just stay down!" He could hear her sobbing.

It didn't matter that he was breathless and in pain, or that he was in Uther's hall: he had to stop it.

Taking a deep breath and summoning as much of the magic inside of him as he could, he extended his hand in front of him and called out:

"_Eorthe, lyft, fyr, waeter, hiersumie me_."

He felt the magic rip through his body like never before. Every single one of his limbs was throbbing from the effort. This wasn't _normal_. This wasn't _right_. His magic had never been _that_ straining. Still, he focused his mind on the spell and not the pain, and suddenly, the ground under him shook. He raised his eyes to see that the large stone was vibrating, its fire decreasing, and then, a crack. The side of the boulder, the side that Merlin was face to face with, burst opened in two clean halves and as the rock broke, so did the magic.

And then the pain got worst, much worst. It was agony to breathe. It was a torture just to be lying down. He wanted to get up, he _had_ to: it was a matter of survival. He struggled, he twisted, he faltered, and then he knew no more.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Author's note:

I have it all planned for this story so if you are patient with me you should see some action in the next chapters.

Please don't comment about the physician stuff. I'm not a doctor; I'm a writer. I get to make stuff up as I go along.

Please review!

Thanks,

Chapter 5

It was only when the noise and the green lightning ended that Gaius dared to look up. The scene in front of him was absolute chaos. The windows, the furniture, the hanging banners; everything had been blown to pieces. There were dark spots on the stone walls where the lightning had crashed. The white flowers had been ripped apart and were now lying on the bodies of those who had fallen to the ground. A few minutes ago, there had been screaming. Now he could hear only moaning and hysterical sobbing.

The only comprehensible sound was King Ulrik's booming voice as he called to all of his men.

"Knights of Vallonia, those of you who can stand and hold a sword, we shall find the enemy and make them pay! Join me!"

A few answers were heard, but not from the Knights of Camelot and not from Prince Arthur. Amongst the slow movements and low groaning of the green-clad knights, Gaius saw the king step close to his son and look upon him with a look of relief on his face, but also something else, something less likely to belong to a father. Was it disdain? The young prince was cradling one of his wounded knights in his arms, tears pouring down his face. His father hesitated a moment, and then he moved on without a word. Gaius could only watch as the knight drew his last breathes. Prince Odran was crying when at last he closed the man's eyes.

"Knights of Vallonia, to me!" cried out King Ulrik as he left the hall hurriedly.

The absence of reply from the knights of Camelot, Uther or Arthur filled Gaius with sudden dread. His physician instincts kicked in immediately. He had to keep a cold head, regardless of how he felt. He had to work his way through the priorities. Firstly, he appraised his own condition and found only a few cuts on his left arm. He then did a rapid head count: more people were lying on the ground than left standing, but his first patient would be the most important one for Camelot.

_Uther_.

Struggling to get up in the pile of debris, Gaius took only one step before he found the king. Uther was lying on his back, blood pouring out of a deep gash on his forehead. His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving. Quickly, Gaius bent over his king and with a piece of fabric torn from his tunic he started to apply pressure on Uther's wound. The weak pulse and the blood loss were enough to confirm what Gaius feared: that he would have to remain at Uther's side until the blood flow stopped and the king regained consciousness. Who, then, would take care of the other victims?

Gaius' eyes darted around the room again, searching for his priority number two.

_Arthur_.

He could see the prince now, at the other end of the hall, struggling to get up. Lady Ursulla was seated on the ground besides him and she grabbed his arm pleadingly. With a jolt in his stomach, Gaius saw Prince Arthur stumble down with a look of pain in his face. He was clutching his shoulder and blood was trickling between his fingers. But the old physician couldn't get up; he still had to keep pressure on Uther's wound.

"My Lord! You saved my life!" squealed Lady Ursulla.

But Arthur didn't seem interested in her at all. He ignored her completely as he turned around and his eyes found Gaius.

"My father!" he yelled from across the room.

"I have to stay with him, my Lord, until he regains consciousness," replied the physician. "How is your own condition? _Arthur_?"

Gaius was listening intently for the reply, but none came.

"I'll go to him. Stay with the king."

Gaius glanced up in time to see Prince Odran wipe the tears from his face and then throw his green velvet cloak on the side and rush to Arthur's aid. The young Vallonian moved hastily, which indicated to Gaius that he was unscathed. As soon as he was next to her, Odran took a firm hold of his sister's arm.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

She looked at him with such pleading submissiveness that she seemed at that moment a totally different person.

"I want to go home, Odran! I'm not ready for this. I don't want to get married. I want to go home!"

The prince looked at her as though she was a mere nuisance.

"Do you even listen to yourself?"

Ignoring his sister's pleading did not seem to him to be very difficult. His attention was already on Arthur. Gaius saw the young prince cut the tunic with a small knife, and then appraise the wound very carefully while maintaining a firm grip on Arthur's shoulder.

Odran glanced quickly in Gaius' direction.

"The wound is superficial," he declared.

He then moved on to check Arthur's pupils, took his pulse, checked his neck and his head, and each step was performed exactly as Gaius would have prescribed it.

"Mind what you're doing," said Arthur sharply as he came around.

Odran's reply was to tear a piece of fabric from a nearby fallen banner and to start dressing the wound on Arthur's arm with surprising speed and agility.

"Don't worry," he said as a response to Arthur's inquiring gaze, "I've been our court physician's apprentice for years. There was no need for me to be the king's heir with two older brothers." He paused. There seemed to be a great pain in that last comment. "There's a bump on your head and a gash on your arm, but your injuries are trivial. You're just a little stunned from the blow."

Arthur meant to ask a question, but he was cut off by one of the Vallonian Knights, a tall bearded man whose name Gaius could not recall, however he had been certain that the knight had followed the king outside.

"Are you unharmed, Sire?"

The knight was eyeing Odran and the Lady Ursulla worriedly, but the prince kept his eyes on the bandage on Arthur's arm.

"Are there any wounded outside, Gilbert?"

"There is no trace of an attack outside of the king's hall, my Lord. However, your father…"

"He has gathered all of the guards to go after the Druids, I know."

The knight called Gilbert bent his head low, almost in shame.

"The few who have stayed will do as you command them, my Prince."

Odran hesitated, and then he said out loud: "You will gather the knights of Vallonia and Camelot and make the city safe. Prince Arthur, do you concur?"

Arthur looked taken aback. "Yes, I concur. Make the city safe. My knights will follow your lead. I must stay here with my father."

"Yes, my Lord," said the knight, bowing. "The city is not safe for you or Prince Odran at the present time."

"My sister, take her away from here, please."

"Morgana's chambers," said Arthur immediately. "Anyone of our servants will know where it is."

Gilbert bowed one last time in the direction of his prince and then he led the Lady Ursulla who was pale but had stopped sobbing, out of the hall. The knight was almost out of sight when Odran called out. "And Gilbert, find Emmerich! We need him."

"I take it you know what or who attacked us," asked Arthur as both princes were looking at the door through which Lady Ursulla had left.

"The Druids of the Black Leaf. They are the result of my father's war against magic. They are a clan of sorcerers and renegades intend on making my family pay for the sufferings of their kind. My brother Godric was their last victim. Now I am the only one left for them to kill."

"That was some powerful magic," commented Arthur, glancing in the direction of the broken boulder that had been burning with a green flame a few minutes ago.

"Only one or two have such evil powers. The others are mere followers, and sometimes have no magic at all. They are driven by revenge, nothing more. My father wishes to see Camelot and Vallonia united so that his and Uther's forces can wipe them all out."

He looked sideways at Arthur.

"I see," snorted the prince, straightening up. "No offense, but she's not really my type."

However, Odran's attention seemed to have been caught by something else in the distance.

"I've seen those burning rocks before, but never has it ever cracked down in the middle like this. Are you sure there are no sorcerers in Camelot?"

Gaius followed Oran's glance, and he knew exactly who he would find next to the cracked boulder. He was still kneeling at Uther's side, but through the settling dust, he could discern the familiar red tunic and black hair. He was lying face down, and he was unmoving.

It was no use containing his voice. "Merlin!"

From the corner of his eyes, Gaius saw Prince Arthur jump on his feet. He, too, had followed Odran's gaze and had spotted his manservant lying on the ground.

Gaius felt helpless and tied to Uther's motionless body. He wanted to get up and tend to Merlin, but his responsibilities prevented it. His only hope was that Odran was a good apprentice, but as he followed Arthur to Merlin's aid, the young Vallonian prince was stopped by a knight who grabbed his ankle in desperation. Gaius knew right away what it meant: the prince too had responsibilities. He had to take care of his knights first.

Arthur was already kneeling besides Merlin when he realized that Odran was not at his side.

And then…

"Gwen!"

She was sitting with he back against the stone wall and she looked shaken, yet her voice was steady. "I'm fine. Take care of Merlin."

Gaius saw Arthur's eyes turn to him inquiringly. He was leaning over Merlin and he didn't know what to do next. Gaius was just a few feet away, but still he could not move away.

"Turn him over gently," said the physician, trying to sound calm. "You need to check if he's breathing."

Arthur grabbed Merlin carefully by the shoulder and flipped him over. A wave of panic ran through Gaius' body. Merlin's chest wasn't moving. He looked unnaturally pale.

"What should I do next?" yelled Arthur. There was distress in his voice.

"Use your ears, Sire," called out the physician.

Arthur bent low over Merlin's chest.

"He's not breathing. I don't think so. I…"

"Move over."

Gaius had not seen or paid attention to the dark figure now was leaning over Merlin's unmoving form, but now that he saw him, the feeling of familiarity was instantaneous. The newcomer had broad shoulders but a thin outline, a brown travelling coat and an overall untidy appearance that was contrasting next to the prince. His long black hair was tucked behind his ears and there were two shorter white tresses on each side of his face. The first movement that he did was to pull out a small silver knife and rip Merlin's red robes speedily. Arthur's eyes went wide with horror, but Gaius could not see why.

"What is that?"

The dark man's only reply was to aim his knife at Merlin's chest.

"Are you insane?" cried Arthur as he caught hold of the man's wrist.

The other man kept his eyes on Merlin as though he did not dare look into the prince's eyes.

"It's all right," shouted Odran, who was holding pressure on another knight's wound. "He's our court physician. I need you _here_, Emmerich, so please hurry."

The Vallonian physician turned his eyes slowly to Arthur but the prince still had a firm grip, so Emmerich explained quickly.

"The blood is hemorrhaging under the skin and the swelling is putting pressure on his lungs. I need to make an incision to allow the blood to flow. If I don't do it now, he'll die of suffocation." When Arthur's stare remained blank, Emmerich added: "It means he'll stop breathing."

"I know what suff-ing… I know what it means!" bellowed Arthur, outraged.

Gaius was loosing patience, and the color of Merlin's skin clearly indicated that something had to be done at once.

"Sire, let him work. I beg you!"

Arthur stepped aside but Emmerich held him back immediately.

"Sire, you need to hold him. He's going to struggle."

Gathering himself, Arthur placed his hands on Merlin's shoulders, pressing him firmly to the ground. Gwen stepped in closer, a white cloth in her hands. Emmerich glanced at Gaius once, and then he took the silver knife and pressed it against Merlin's chest. The scream of pain that followed was only done half-consciously, so were the movements that almost threw Arthur off. Gaius turned his eyes away only for a moment, when he looked again Gwen was applying pressure on the wound and Emmerich was wiping the silver blade with a white handkerchief. To Gaius' relief, Merlin's chest was moving up and down regularly and some color was returning to his face.

Arthur slouched back with a sigh of relief, but he did not have time to congratulate the physician. Emmerich was already on his feet and making his way towards Prince Odran and the wounded knight. The knight, Gaius noticed, had blood coming out of his mouth. Odran was kneeling besides him and stroking his brow.

No words were exchanged between the prince and the physician, only a silent understanding.

"My greatest wish, Sire," said the knight in a hoarse voice, "was to give my life for one deserving the throne of Vallonia, and I have, Sire, I have."

"Save your breath," said Odran weakly.

"I shall tell Godric what a great man you have become."

And with those last words, the knight's eyes became glassy and he moved no more.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

This is the heart of the plot, so I hope you enjoy. Please review!

Chapter 6

Gaius was pacing around his chambers. It was early morning, Merlin was deeply asleep in his own bedroom, and the old physician could not get the image of the dark man who had saved his life out of his mind.

Emmerich's appearances, his manners, his composure, the tone of his voice, the color of his hair, were, for as much as he could remember, the likeliness of Balinor, Merlin's father. It was the only way to explain the familiarity that he felt. His figure was perhaps thinner than what Gaius remembered, but there were several possible explanations for that. The only detail that was troubling Gaius, therefore, was the fact that Balinor was supposed to dead; Merlin's being a Dragonlord was proof enough of that. Who was this man, then, if he was _not_ Balinor?

_Some distant relation, perhaps_, thought Gaius restlessly. He had gone over that possibility in his mind more than once over the past two days. What if Balinor had a brother? If he did, it meant that Merlin had an uncle. The consequence of that could be life-changing for the young warlock and Gaius felt overwhelmed wit the opportunities.

His pacing brought him to the threshold of Merlin's bedroom. His young apprentice had spoken a few words in the ancient language during the night, which had alarmed Gaius, but now his sleep looked untroubled. Gaius took a few minutes to check Merlin's pulse and his wound. The cut was straight and clean under the white bandage. The blood lost had been considerable, but controlled. The incision was deeper than Gaius would have liked, which had resulted in Emmerich performing a sealing of the wound by hot metal. They had done it in Gaius' chambers and Merlin had been given a sleeping potion right after. At that point, and given the internal injury, a fever would have been fatal, so Gaius had kept a close watch for the last twenty-four hours, but Merlin, it seemed, was going to pull through.

Gaius allowed himself to look unrestrainedly into Merlin's face as he slept. The resemblance was there, there was no denying it. Merlin and Emmerich, however unlikely, could almost be father and son, in age as well as in appearance. So what did it mean? Had Gaius been the only one to notice it?

These questions had kept his mind busy ever since the attack. If the Great Dragon had still been in the cave beneath the castle, he might have gone to him for answers. Now, it looked as though he was going to have to find out for himself.

Such were the thoughts in Gaius' mind when he closed the door of Merlin's room after having changed his bandages. He was therefore surprised to find that he was not alone in his chambers.

"Emmerich!"

The other physician bowed low. "Pardon my intrusion," he said softly. "Is he still sleeping?"

"Yes."

"Has he a fever?"

"No."

"I am relieved."

But the physician did not look relieved at all, Gaius observed, his inquiry about Merlin had been a mere triviality, an excuse. He was looking around the room, probing every objet with his glare, appraising the accommodations perhaps, or evaluating the physician's work space. All the while, he was trying hard to avoid direct eye contact.

"I wouldn't want you to loose your only apprentice," said Emmerich conversely.

"He is more a relation than an apprentice. I wouldn't compare him to Odran, for instance."

Emmerich was looking out at the small window with his hands behind his back when he replied. "Odran's performance can only be ascribed to my predecessor. I have been the court physician in Vallonia for less than a year. But this – _this_ is a sight for sore eyes."

Gaius allowed his visitor a few minutes to look upon the city of Camelot while he was preparing a small meal in the hopes that it would induce an interesting conversation.

"Won't you sit down?"

Emmerich detached his glance from the window with some difficulty, it seemed, but when he saw the small table with the two stools, two goblets and two bowls of oatmeal, his expression transformed into a smile.

"You cannot be serious, are you?"

"It's not much, but it's breakfast," said Gaius, embarrassed.

"No, it's not what I meant. I didn't want to sound ungrateful. It looks delicious and it is most welcomed."

The two men sat opposite each other and ate in silence. Gaius couldn't help but to stare in the face of the other physician, feeling as if he knew him but not really knowing when or how. At length, he began the conversation.

"Odran told me you are from a small village called Ealdor."

Emmerich gasped, and then he took another mouthful of oatmeal after which he spoke in a low voice.

"Odran is usually more discreet."

"There is no shame in one having humble origins."

"No, there isn't."

"How long ago would you say you were last in that village?"

"A long time ago, I suppose."

"Can't you be more precise?"

The Vallonian physician was twiddling with his spoon. He kept his eyes down, looking straight into his bowl, so that the strands of white hair on both sides of his face made it hard to read his expression.

"I don't see why I should be precise. It's none of your business."

Gaius leaned back, arms crossed on his chest.

"Your techniques are quite impressive. I don't really see how a farmer from Ealdor could come by this form of training and education."

"My techniques are" – he hesitated – "ahead of my time, but that is just because I have a lot of experience."

"You have experience on the battlefield?"

"Several."

Gaius took a sceptical tone, hoping to spark more reaction from his visitor. He had a feeling that he was getting somewhere and that he had started with the right topic, even though he couldn't be sure where this conversation was going.

"Knights and soldiers on the battlefield don't use words like 'haemorrhaging' and 'suffocating', nor do farmers," he said stubbornly.

"I never said I was a farmer."

"No, you didn't."

"I read a lot."

"Indeed."

Gaius took up his most obstinate stance and tried to look Emmerich into the eyes. _The eyes, which were so much like Merlin's… _

"Oh, will you stop!" cried out Emmerich, throwing his head back. "What gave me away?"

"I beg your pardon," said Gaius, confused.

"I shouldn't have told Odran about Ealdor. That was my first mistake, wasn't it? It seemed like a trivial detail at the time."

Gaius leaned in closer. "Maybe it is so in Vallonia. Here, it's not a secret that Merlin comes from that place." He paused, unsure exactly what he was supposed to grasp. "What's your relation to Balinor? Are you his brother?"

Emmerich looked taken aback, and then he shook his head. "No, Gaius, it's _me_."

"Impossible," whispered the old physician.

"Not Balinor. It's me, _Merlin_."

There was no possible rationalization for such a claim; then again, Merlin was anything but normal. Some laws just did not seem to apply to him. Yet Gaius' logical mind needed more than a simple assertion.

"Prove it," he declared, with his arms still crossed on his chest.

Emmerich passed his hand behind his head. The gesture was so familiar, but that alone was not enough.

"The first time that I walked in here, I startled you and you fell off that banister," said Emmerich, pointing at the wall covered with shelves and shelves of books beyond Gaius. "I magically slowed you down and moved the bed under you so that you wouldn't break your back."

Gaius was unmovable. "Someone could have told you that."

"But I just told you about my magic! I told you once that if I can't use my magic, I've got nothing, I'm just a nobody, but you showed me that it isn't true. And Arthur! How often have I saved him using magic, and right under Uther's nose? And how many times have you scolded me about using magic for trivial things like polishing Arthur's godforsaken armour? If I'm not me, than how can I possibly know about the book of magic now hiding under a floor panel in my room next to my bed? If I'm not me, how can I know about the name Emrys and the deep magic that connects me to Arthur?"

An understanding had already begun to form in Gaius' mind as the man called Emmerich spoke. His logical brain was thinking one thing, but his intuition was pointing him towards something different.

"How?"

Emmerich rose from his seat and started to pace around the room, his hands were fidgeting with something around his neck.

"It's called the Light of Eriador. You know it, of course. You have seen it. I searched high and low to discover the truth about that deep magic, only to learn that it was hiding under my very nose in Camelot."

"What are you talking about?"

Merlin – _Emmerich_, Gaius corrected himself – came back to sit on the edge of the stool. His hands were still busy with a small token hanging on a chain around his neck.

"It's the crystal, the one sitting in the king's vault, the one that's supposed to hold some great power."

"Merlin saw things in that crystal, things that have not yet come to pass," said Gaius in a low voice.

He could not bring himself to refer to the man in front of him as Merlin. Even if the story was true, in his mind the two were separate beings. He knew one of them by heart. But this one, this _Emmerich_, was new to him. He wasn't even sure if he could trust him.

"The crystal is the key," said Emmerich as though this statement held all of the answers. "I saw in it what was going to happen, but I could not stop it. It all went so wrong."

He seemed lost in thought for a while, and then he looked at Gaius meaningfully.

"The crystal contains the Light. You break it, and the Light takes you where you want to go, _when_ you want to go."

"And you came here?" asked Gaius incredulously.

Emmerich ruffled the hair at the back of his head again.

"Not exactly. Vallonia certainly wasn't part of the plan, but I just ended up there, for some reason. My plan wasn't to go that far back."

He then looked intently into Gaius eyes, searching him.

"You're not asking me why?"

Gaius didn't want to consider the possibilities. Only an even horrible beyond imagination could have resulted in such an extreme measure.

"I don't need to know."

Emmerich leaned in closer. Gaius could clearly see his token now. It was a medallion with the Camelot dragon crest on it.

"You _have_ to know, Gaius. I need your help."

"Do you think I want to know the future?" cried out Gaius louder than he wanted.

Emmerich's face contorted into a painful expression. Was it shame?

"I need you, Gaius. I've got to be stopped. Well, not me – _him_," he said, nodding in the direction of Merlin's bedroom door.

Gaius could not believe what he was hearing.

"You did this. Merlin said his magic was blocked. You hurt him! How could you?"

"I had to! And he wouldn't have been hurt if he hadn't struggled. I couldn't just bind his magic with a simple spell. You know how powerful he is becoming. You see it day by day."

"You have no right…"

"I have every right!" cried out Emmerich, pressing both hands on the table, his face twisting as though he was fighting some inner battle. "You don't know what it's going to be like. You think everything is going to fall into place when Arthur becomes king. It doesn't! Trust me. I become court physician, and perhaps that isn't so bad for a while, but then, court sorcerer. The dream! It's everything I ever wanted. But from that moment, things get worst, a lot worst. Camelot has been allowed to live in peace for a long time, but all of that is about to end. Upon Uther's deathbed, it will. Like a pebble on the water, the effect will be the destruction of everything that we've worked so hard to protect, and everyone."

As he spoke, as though he was voicing some terrible truth, Gaius got a chance to see just how much this Emmerich was not like Merlin. His eyes were not bright with suppressed tears, but his traits were harsh, his voice dry, his eyes dark. Where there should have been tears, Gaius could see only concealment and a hidden purpose.

"I don't want to know," repeated Gaius.

"Everything that's happening right now is going to blow right into my face, and Arthur will suffer the consequences: Mordred, Morgana, the Great Dragon, the secrets about Arthur's birth, and that bloody Sword…"

But Gaius could not hear anymore. To him, the fact that Merlin would resort to such deep magic was unthinkable. The Merlin he knew would not try to cheat the essence of life itself. Even more unimaginable was the thought that he, Emmerich, was the one responsible for Merlin's injuries. How he could possibly come to the conclusion that binding Merlin's magic was the only solution was a reasoning that Gaius could not comprehend or least of all accept.

"Do you think that you're a god?" he burst out. "What gives you the right to come here and play with our lives for your own mistakes?"

"I had to try. For Arthur."

Gaius was startled by the tone Emmerich had used to pronounce Arthur's name. It was a breathless whisper, a torture.

"Arthur dies?"

"Why else would I make this one way trip?"

"One way?"

Emmerich looked down at his half-empty bowl again. He was avoiding Gaius' glare.

"The Light of Eriador can only be used once. There is no returning home."

"And you accepted that?"

"You see this?" He pulled the chain from under his brown tunic. "Arthur had it removed from his old armour and made into a crest to give to me on the day that he made me court physician. Do you know what I did then? On that day, I told him that I had been lying to him for the past ten years. I told him what I was right after he had bestowed so much honour on me. I felt like a traitor, but I couldn't keep the secret anymore. He forgave me of course, broke every rule to protect me, and why? I do not know. Loyalty and friendship, I guess. But the truth is that I only ever brought pain and misery to the kingdom that he worked so hard to keep together. So, you see, I have to be stopped."

"You think that he should never learn?"

"It's more than that. The magic has to go."

Gaius feared that line of thought even more than Emmerich's presence. Merlin could not exist without magic. Merlin _was_ magic.

"You can't be serious."

"It's the only way. I can be court physician and be there for him, but the magic can't. It will only draw in those who seek to destroy Arthur and Camelot." His tone was pleading.

"Magic is who you are," argued Gaius

"Power corrupts."

"I don't believe that."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to trust me. If you want to do what's right, you will convince him to stop using magic from this day forth."

Gaius crossed his arms on his chest stubbornly. He had too much experience with young people to accept 'trust me' as an only justification.

"Isn't the enchantment binding his magic already?" 

"The enchantment isn't enough," said Emmerich guardedly. "He's struggling against it. It will not be sealed unless he makes that decision for himself. You don't have any idea how powerful he is even now, not even _he_ does. He can't be allowed to walk down that path."

"I won't convince him."

"If you don't, then he will die."

Gaius felt outraged. "You wouldn't dare. He's _you_!"

"I won't kill him, but the enchantment will take a little bit of his strength every time he uses magic. That is how it works. If he stops now, then his life will continue normally. If not, then he will suffer every day until he is too weak to carry on. You don't want that, and neither do I."

Gaius looked into the eyes of the man before him and saw a familiar determination. Yet, now that he knew the man's plan, the resemblance to Merlin, the _real_ Merlin, felt diluted by years of rage and desperation. His only hope was that he would never see that look on Merlin's face for as long as he lived.

"I see that I do not have much of a choice," he said after some consideration.

"You can choose to save Arthur's life and make a better world."

After that, there seemed very little left to say. Gaius got up and started to walk towards the door, Emmerich following in his footsteps.

"For what it's worth, I'm happy that I had a chance to see you again, Gaius," said the Vallonia physician.

But Gaius did not feel any inclination to carry on this conversation. Emmerich must have felt his reluctance because he paused at the threshold.

"I will stay out of the way. He cannot know who I am…"

"Yes, I get the idea," said Gaius impatiently.

"I know that it's hard to understand why right now, but it's the only way if I'm to fulfill my destiny."

Gaius' instinctive reaction was to cast him a severe look.

"You're not him."

"Now we don't have to find out," retorted Emmerich.

But Gaius had already shut the door and now he was muttering to himself.

"I already know."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Merlin got up from his bed with some difficulty. A pale sunlight was coming through the window and it was raining. Merlin dressed up slowly, wincing when he pulled the shirt over his head. He looked down at his chest and at the white bandage. He could feel a sting on his left side, which he imagined was the explanation for the bandage. A part of his mind seemed to remember an unbearable pain, but the circumstances were a little blurry in his brain. He couldn't tell how long he had been unconscious or asleep, but it certainly hadn't been his usual night. A sort of tiredness remained, in addition to his aching body.

Suddenly, and with some uneasiness, he remembered the voice that had dragged him outside of the castle, the hooded figure, the traveling boots, and the magic that had radiated from that mysterious person.

So there had been an enchantment cast upon him. What else could account for the injury to his chest or the broken ribs? But what could he do? He didn't know many spells. Was there magic that could reveal enchantments? And why on Earth did he not know more healing spells?

He wasn't too sure about getting up but he tried anyway. As expected, his vision began to blur and he had to sit down again, suppressing a groan of pain.

_This is not good_, he thought distressingly.

His next impulse was to try a bit of magic. He raised his hand close to a candle and he conjured an image of a burning flame in his mind. A drop of orange fire appeared dancing in front of his eyes. However, just when he was starting to feel the relief of seeing his magic work properly, a wave of pain took birth in his torso, increased when it hit his chest, and finally reached a peak as it climbed to his head. The agony made him grab his forehead instinctively in an effort to suppress a moan of pain. He knew what it meant, of course. His magic was impaired. Someone had done this to him. But who? And why?

The urge to find an answer gave him the strength he needed to pull himself up from his bed. He was glad that he didn't sway or felt sick because it meant that he wouldn't have to let Gaius know too much about what was affecting him. After all, there was no need to worry his old mentor until he knew more.

"Finally! I was beginning to think that I would have to pull you out of bed myself," said Gaius as soon as he had stepped through the threshold.

Merlin was slightly taken aback.

"Shouldn't you be telling me to stay in bed?"

The words had not finished coming out of his mouth that he felt himself sway on the spot and he had to lean heavily on a nearby table to remain standing.

Gaius was by his side in a blink of an eye.

"Even if the last two days haven't been easy for you, it doesn't mean that you have to stop eating and walking," said the physician.

"I don't remember being stabbed," said Merlin weakly as Gaius was helping him sit down. "Is that normal?"

"Normal doesn't apply to you, unfortunately," replied the old man with a grin that Merlin thought was slightly mysterious.

He then proceeded to lift Merlin's shirt to check the bandage and the bruise. His face twisted in concentration as he appraised Merlin's condition.

"You _are_ going to tell me about the stabbing, right?"

"Not stabbing, but a very precise, not to mention life-saving incision done by King Ulrik's physician, Emmerich," explained Gaius as he was busy with replacing the bandage and probing the sides of Merlin's chest.

"Excuse me?" gasped the young warlock.

"_Em-me-rich_," enunciated the physician, conscious that the name had a familiar ring to it. "He saved your life, as I was saying. The blood was building pressure against your lungs and making it hard for you to breath. The cut released the excess blood, and here you are."

"I fell forward after that blast…" said Merlin pensively as the memories of the evening of the attack were flooding back to him.

He remembered the burning rock, the green glow of the flame, holding Gwen's head to the floor, the agony after he had pronounced that spell, but mostly he remembered the anguish he had felt at one single thought: _Arthur_.

Was his brain working in slow motion? Why was he only thinking about Arthur _now_?

Without any other thought, he sprang to his feet with his right hand wrapped around his torso where he could still feel the sting of the cut. He meant to rush to see Arthur at once.

Gaius caught him by the arm. "_Easy_, Merlin. You're not going anywhere."

"Arthur! Is he all right? Was he hurt? You have to tell me, Gaius!"

"He's _fine_, Merlin, so will you please sit down," said the old man while forcing him unto his seat again.

But Merlin was still thinking about the attack. He had heard screaming.

"Was anyone else hurt?"

"Many Knights of Vallonia died," said Gaius gloomily as he served some bread and water to his young apprentice. "There is a burial as we speak."

He then went on to tell Merlin about the Druids of the Black Leaf and how King Ulrik's search had not been in vain as he now had some idea of the hiding place of the renegades.

"Arthur is to lead the Knights of Vallonia and Camelot in a patrol of the woods in the hopes of finding them," concluded Gaius while watching Merlin's reaction from the corner of his eye. "Don't even think about it," he called out when Merlin motioned to get up again.

"I have to go with them, Gaius," pleaded the young sorcerer. "That was some powerful magic. Arthur has no idea was he's walking into."

"I think that Emmerich might," said Gaius conspicuously.

Merlin tried to recall an image of that man, but he realized that he had only an impression and not a clear picture.

"You think he has magic?" he asked Gaius.

The old physician was walking towards him with a bowl of liquid cradled in his arm as though it contained something precious.

"What I think doesn't matter if we don't have any proof, but I think you should watch him closely," answered Gaius as he was sitting the bowl in front of Merlin.

"What is _that_? It smells!"

The physician took a long breathe as though he was preparing himself to pronounce some terrible diagnosis. When he began to speak, his tone was solemn and categorical.

"Under no circumstances should you use magic to cure an illness or injury. Healing requires skill and knowledge and time. The body needs to mend itself; such is the law of nature. You must resort to science first and let logic guide you, not believes or superstitions. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes," muttered Merlin, a little confused.

Gaiu continued. "In a case where the affliction is the result of an enchantment, however, the requirements to counteract the curse may be of magical nature."

The bowl that was sitting between them seemed like a talisman sealing their agreement.

"You must promise this, Merlin," insisted the physician.

Merlin could not help but grin, even though the potion had a repugnant smell.

"I promise. Is that from the _book_?"

Gaius seemed to rest a after the promise had been made.

"The book doesn't explain much, but if there is an enchantment impairing your magic, this potion should lessen it. I think it will also partially heal the internal injuries that are the result of the enchantment."

"Great!" said Merlin, reaching for the bowl.

Gaius pressed a hand on his arm. "Everyone must think you are still injured," he recommended.

Without another word, Merlin drank the liquid. The smell was horrible and it made him almost spit it all out, but after only a few seconds, he felt a wave of relief throughout his body. The pain and pressure on his chest disappeared almost entirely. The throbbing in his head was died away almost at once. Only the sting on his side where he had been cut remained.

"Better?" asked Gaius.

"Definitely. I should go to Arthur."

Gaius shook his head as though he was struggling with some inner difficulty.

"What is it?"

Gaius took a long breathe. "I don't think you should use your magic."

Merlin was hit by surprise first, and then, anguish. "You just said this potion would lessen the enchantment. Gaius, this is not normal. I have to find whoever did this and find a way to undo it."

Gaius' face changed to sudden alarm, but it only lasted a few seconds and then he regained his usual self-control.

"I know you have to," he said quietly, patting Merlin on the back. "Just be careful. The Druids of the Black Leaf recruit young sorcerers just like you. If they don't know about your magic, they may leave you alone."

"Actually, I was thinking that one of them might have done this to me."

Gaius' face remained passive. "Logic dictates that whoever did this has to know about your magic in the first place."

"You just narrowed it down to just you and me," said Merlin, smiling.

As Merlin turned his back to go to his chamber to get dressed, he heard Gaius mutter under his breath "My point exactly". But, Merlin thought that he must have heard wrong and he forgot the comment almost instantly.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Pretending that he was still hurt wouldn't be so difficult. He still had the deep gash on his left side, which was throbbing enough to slow his pace as he walked through the many corridors and stairs of the castle. When he opened the door to Arthur's chambers, he was glad to see that the prince had not left yet. He was struggling awkwardly with the fastenings of his armour.

"_Finally_. I was about to send for Gwen to finish off."

He glanced at Merlin and he seemed to appraise his outward appearance.

"By the way, don't even think about coming with us. You're in no shape to ride, let alone stand your ground in a fight."

The prince looked impatient and so Merlin took over speedily. Helping Arthur put on his armour had become second nature. He didn't even have to think about it and he could carry a conversation at the same time, which at the present time suited his purpose.

"You can't go hunt down those Druids," he said without preamble.

"I suppose you have some perfectly clear explanation as to why that is, as you usually do," replied the prince sarcastically.

Merlin kept a serious tone. "That was some powerful magic. Gaius said that they are after revenge. People like that will stop at nothing. We don't even know why they are in Camelot. Wouldn't it have been easier for them to attack King Ulrik's party while they were on the road?"

The prince turned to face him and he had that arrogant smirk on his face.

"That's actually not a bad assertion for a half-wit, Merlin."

"Then don't go. Try to find out more about those Druids first."

Arthur shot him one of his most condescending looks. "What never ceases to amaze me, Merlin, is that you always forget that I am the heir to the throne. Our king and our knights have been attacked, not to mention our guests, and you would have me stay here to investigate? You may have that luxury, but I don't."

Arthur turned towards the window for a moment. Merlin looked over his shoulders and saw the courtyard filled with green-clad knights and servants of Vallonia, all of them standing around in the pouring rain. King Ulrik was recognisable by the fur around his hood. He was speaking low into the ear of a man with a brown tunic and thick black hair.

"Who's that?" asked Merlin.

"That," answered Arthur, "is King Ulrik's physician Emmerich, and you owe him your life."

The young warlock puckered his face to try and get a better look of the man through the curtain of rain, but his impression remained unclear. There was a certain familiarity, but nothing more.

"Haven't you noticed it?"

Arthur was staring at him meaningfully.

"What?"

"Emmerich! Doesn't he look familiar?"

"I… err… I wasn't exactly in a position to get a good look at him. You know, being passed out and all that."

Arthur sighed and then he spoke quietly. "There's something about him. He reminds me of someone. What I can't put my finger on is _who_."

Merlin had the same impression, therefore he did not argue. The physician Emmerich was the least of his concerns at the moment, regardless of Gaius' warning that he may have magic. He would try to get a better look at the face later, but right now he was only worried about Arthur. He worried that the prince was leading the Knights of Camelot into a conflict that was both beyond his understanding and dangerous.

"Don't you think it strange that Odran is not leading the Vallonian Knights?"

Arthur let out a long sigh of irritation. "_Prince_ Odran is not older than you are, Merlin, and he has no battle experience. From what I understand, he is the least of the three brothers."

"What do you mean by 'least'?" asked Merlin, confused. "And I only heard about one brother, not two."

"The eldest, Bryan, was destined to be king, until he was taken by these Druids of the Black Leaf and was never found or heard of again. One can only assume that they killed him. The second son, Godric, was a cunning warrior, but he died, killed by magic during an attack. And then there's Odran, the son who cannot yield a sword. There was no need to teach him with two brothers, so no one bothered."

Silence fell in the room as both of them stared at the window and at the pouring rain. For Merlin, it was just one of those moments when Arthur looked so much older and wiser than what everyone gave him credit for. On those rare occasions, he always felt that he was catching a glimpse of the king that Arthur was going to become, and that gave him comfort and hope.

"Don't look at me like that, Merlin. You're embarrassing me."

"I didn't mean…"

"Just get me my other cloak, will you? If I'm going to ride out in the rain, I guess I'd better bring a spare one."

Merlin was putting the final touch to Arthur's outfit when there was a knock at the door. Gwen came in, bowing slightly on the threshold. Her usually radiant smile was somewhere lessened and she had a bruise on her cheek. Several servants were in the corridor behind her so Arthur remained distant, which Merlin thought was hugely wrong.

"Gwen, you're hurt!" he said as soon as he saw her.

"I'm fine," she said, glancing at Arthur. "I'm glad to see that you're fine as well." She paused, her eyes fixed on Arthur. "Lady Ursulla will not leave Lady Morgana's chambers."

Arthur was undisturbed. "My father was clear. There is no will or will not. She _cannot_ remain in Morgana's chambers."

"That's what I've been telling her for the past hour. She will not listen to reason. She says that it is the only place in Camelot where she feels safe. I've tried everything. When our servants began to move her things, she _fainted_."

Arthur looked at Gwen incredulously. Merlin snorted while trying to suppress a laugh.

"It's not funny," said Gwen after a short giggle. "What should I tell her?"

"It's bad enough that we put on hold the search for Morgana to accommodate these guests."

Gwen took a more serious tone. "It is Lady Ursulla's opinion that Morgana will never be found and that it is time for you to _move on_."

"_Excuse me_?"

Arthur looked livid. He clenched his fists as though he was about to hit something. Merlin stepped closer to Gwen.

"Did she really say that?" he muttered.

Gwen merely nodded.

"You know what?" let out Arthur. "There's a clan of murderers out there. They have magic beyond anything we've encountered so far. Many knights have died. There are things more important right now than a woman's sensibilities. She can sleep in the dungeons for all I care. I don't have time for this."

Gwen took a step back. Merlin imagined that he saw a hint of defiance in her face, but it quickly disappeared. She muttered a 'As you wish, Sire,' bowed low and closed the door behind her.

"Wait, Gwen, I'm sorry!" cried out Arthur, but she was already out of earshot.

Merlin couldn't help but grin behind Arthur's back.

"Very… _smooth_," he mumbled.

Arthur shot him a dirty look.

"Very smooth, _Sire_," he corrected himself.

Arthur's reply was sharp. "Just hand me my sword, would you?"

As Merlin was fastening the sword to Arthur's belt, the babbling went on.

"She'll get over it. _Gwen_. She's tough, and she knows that I wasn't aiming the comment at her. Gwen is worth ten times Lady Ursulla in kindness and courage and compassion. Honestly, I could never marry a woman who sobs and faints every time there is the slightest commotion. She wouldn't _survive_ two minutes at my side."

Merlin tried his best to not to look too conspicuous.

"No, you need a woman with more character"

"Exactly."

"Like Gwen."

Arthur's reply was to nudge him in the ribs, which made Merlin wince in pain. In truth, he felt only the sting of the cut, however he tried to amplify his reaction; he couldn't let Arthur in on the fact that his internal injuries had been magically healed.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" stuttered Arthur. "I swear, you've got to be the only man I know who can almost die by falling off the stairs. Gaius did say you were on the mend, right?"

There was a tiny touch of concern in that question.

"Yes," replied Merlin convincingly. "I could ride. I could _help_ you."

But Arthur merely smiled and patted him on the back as he stepped in front of him and into the corridor, his red cloak trailing behind him like a veil.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

He had t o wait until the whole group of knights had left the courtyard until he could sneak into the stables and saddle a horse. It was still pouring and he borrowed an old brown cloak from one distracted servant as he passed by. It was the sort of heavy, uncomfortable wrap that he hated, but that would keep him from the cold rain. The sting on his side was throbbing increasingly and he knew right away that he may have stretched a little too far when he mounted his horse. Still there was an undeniable urgency about the situation that couldn't be ignored on account of his injuries. Arthur and his knights, King Ulrik and the Vallonians; they were all running into a potentially fatal encounter.

As he rode out of Camelot at a fast pace, Merlin remembered the green flame of the burning rock. He could recall easily every word spoken by the deafening voice at that moment:

_Creatures of magic, we are brothers and sisters. You can find us where the forest is green as it is where our power is stronger. Be free of the walls of stone, become one with the Earth and Sky. If you are one of us, then join us. If you choose to be our enemy, then fear us and die. This is our last offer._

There was no doubt in his mind as to where Arthur and Ulrik were taking the knights. The forest was thicker and fuller in the South. There were a few places, just off the road, where a group of people could easily take refuge. If they were not many, and if they knew how to set up good defences or traps, the forest would give them the advantage. Moreover, the knights would have to seek them out on foot.

_As if such powerful magic alone isn't enough_, Merlin thought bitterly.

He wasn't sure at all what he would be able to offer as help in his present condition, but he had to try. He didn't know the extent of the enchantment or curse that had been cast upon him, but at least he could feel the effects of the potion working slowly. As he rode further and further, he could feel the presence of magic increasing, and that made him quicken his pace.

After riding for what seemed like hours, he came to a fork in the road, and then he heard them. The whispering in his ears was loud and clear. It was a woman first, calm and soft, and a man's commanding voice spoke in second.

_The young Pendragon is with them. He might have brought his sorcerer along. You do not know who t__he sorcerer is. We should wait_.

_You said that you could not feel the sorcerer's full power. The chances are that he is just a novice._

_I felt the presence of magic such as I have never felt before._

_And do you feel it with them now?_

_No, but the young Pendragon is unlike anything I have ever…_

_I do not care about Pendragon! I want Ulrik dead! We will wait for the cover of darkness._

_We must be careful. There is deep magic involved here._

_We are magic. Magic will not fail us._

_It has failed us before…_

The voice trailed off, and then Merlin could hear no more. With a jolt in his stomach, he realised that he knew exactly where those voices were coming from. It was like following a strand of wind. On one hand, he could take the path that would lead him to Arthur, and on the other, he could seek out those Druids by himself. After all, they were not after Arthur. They were not even after Uther or destroying Camelot. They only wanted revenge on Ulrik. The woman had felt his magic. She might be inclined to talk to him, to make some kind of bargain. He wasn't very good or experienced in that sort of thing, but he had to try.

Resolutely, he pulled his horse in the direction of the darker road; the one that he knew would lead him to the Druids. But the day was coming to an end and he had to hurry. Without much thought for himself, he kicked his horse hard and the animal took off at galloping speed.

After only a few minutes at that pace, the throbbing at his side became a sharp pain. He pushed himself for as long as he could, but at length he had to admit defeat and to slow down. When he thought that he was going to pass out, he stopped the horse completely and pressed a hand on his torso. As soon as he looked at his fingers, he knew that he was in a very bad position: his fingers were red with blood.

"Oi! You! Servant!"

Merlin wheeled around, pulling the brown cloak about him. A white horse was galloping towards him, and on his back there was a brown-haired young man with a green tunic.

_Oh, great_, thought Merlin instantly.

"Didn't you hear me before?" said the Vallonian prince as he pulled his horse next to Merlin's.

"No, my Lord. I… err… it must have been the rain."

"Don't you think it might be the pain from that wound you're hiding?" said the prince without preamble. "I expect you're probably loosing your eyesight just about now."

Sure enough, he found that he had a hard time focussing. His vision was getting blurry. The more he tried to apply pressure on his wound, the worst, it seemed, his vision was getting. But if he applied less pressure, more blood would flow…

"You shouldn't be out of bed, let alone be galloping in the rain."

He felt the prince grab his arm before he even felt himself sway.

"Were you following me?" said Merlin with some difficulty.

"Yes, of course. I had to when I saw you riding out. I'm guessing that you didn't tell Gaius what you were up to."

"He just said to be careful."

"Did he also tell you that you were an idiot?"

The comment made Merlin look into the prince's face. His hair was splattered on his forehead. There was a slight trace of that arrogant grin that Arthur so often had. But mostly, the prince looked so much older and wiser than his age would suggest.

"I don't get you," said the prince. "Most servants I understand: their need to survive, to feed their families, to have a bed in which to sleep at the end of the day, to do their duties. But you, you're like a knight."

"I'm not a knight," snorted Merlin.

"Then why are you out here?"

The young wizard could only smile. "Do you believe in destiny, Sire?"

The prince's tone became more serious. "All I know is that it wasn't my destiny to end up on the throne."

Merlin brought his horse closer to the prince. He was trying hard to block out the pain as he spoke. "It is my destiny to help Arthur become king."

"That's not a small task. You really believe that your part is essential?"

"It's hard to explain, but I wouldn't be here if I didn't. Will you help me?"

Pulling his hand from under his cloak, he showed the prince the palm covered in blood.

The change in Odran was instantaneous. The prince disappeared and he became the physician at once.

"We have to get you off that horse," he whispered.

"_Quiet_."

Merlin had heard the sound of broken branches. _We're not alone, I can feel it…_

He didn't have time to finish his thoughts. The man that launched at Odran was twice his size. The prince was thrown off his horse and fell into the arms of two other tall and muscular men that Merlin had not seen. Odran pulled out a small knife from under his tunic and he turned against his attackers with surprising speed and agility.

Merlin's eyes darted to his surroundings, but he wasn't fast enough. The hands that grabbed him from behind pressed against his chest and the pain that shot through his body was agonising. He let out a scream of pain that he imagined must have been heard far. It caused the prince to momentarily turn his attention towards him and another attacker took the opportunity to snatch Odran's right wrist.

Merlin felt his body twist in pain as both his arms were pulled backwards and a thick rope began to surround his wrists.

"Stop it!" cried out the young prince. "He's just a servant. Release him and I'll follow you willingly."

At first, Merlin thought that the prince was being arrogant. But as he looked up at the three men who were holding Odran, he saw that they all had deep cuts on their faces and arms. One of their attackers, a bald man with a nasty scar on his left eye, stepped in front of Merlin and took the knife from Odran's hand.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but we have our orders. No harm will come to either of you… yet."

As though they had been waiting for these words, the other attackers grabbed Merlin by the arms and Odran as well, and both of them were taken deep, deep into the forest, until they reached a camp.

It took Merlin every effort just to keep up with the pace and _not_ pass out. He could feel hot blood flowing from the wound at his side. Luckily, they did not have to go very far. He saw at least five or six tents, but no horses. From the muscular features of their assailants, he knew that they did not need horses to be dangerous in a fight. All of them, at least twenty or so, were more impressive than Arthur or any of his knights. Only King Ulrik seemed a match in size and muscle.

While he was trying to record this information in a part of his brain, Merlin was also focusing his attention on the magic that he knew he would feel if the man and woman who had spoken before were in the camp.

He thought that he had caught a glance of at least the woman when he and Odran were suddenly flung into a tent where they were tied to a pole, back to back.

"You're just hired hands!"

Merlin realised for the first time that Odran had been yelling at their captors restlessly but that no effort had been made to restrain him.

"What _cowards_ use mercenaries? Don't you have any courage or principles? Is revenge really worth all that bloodshed? Are Vallonia and Camelot worth destroying? There are good people there! Don't bring Arthur into this feud! Ulrik is only using him!"

He was still shouting even when he and Merlin were the only ones left inside the tent.

"I don't think they care," said Merlin. He knew that he sounded weak and he hated that.

"No, they don't care. They don't care about _anything_."

"At least they didn't kill us," murmured Merlin.

"They wouldn't dare because they had been told not to. How are you feeling?"

Merlin couldn't answer. He knew that he had lost a fair amount of blood already.

"What's your name?"

"_What_?"

"I can't recall your name. Emmerich told me, but I can't remember. I'm awful with names."

"Merlin."

"_Merlin_," repeated Odran. "Keep talking to me while I try to undo these ropes. Where are you from?"

"Eald…"

He could feel himself slipping. He had so very little strength left. He could feel Odran struggling against the bonds, but his efforts were fruitless.

"Where are you from? I didn't hear you, Merlin!" yelled Odran, distress in his voice.

Merlin's thoughts were on his magic. He felt that the blood that he was loosing was not his life: magic was. How strange to have it blocked, impaired, curse against him. Was it even possible? Wasn't he a creature of magic?

And then, without thinking, he whispered the words that he knew would cut the ropes instantly. He felt his body slip down against Odran's back, felt the ground underneath him, and then there was darkness and blissful sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Special thanks to the following Wiki for the spells

.com/wiki/Spells

Lots of action in this chapter.

Enjoy!

Chapter 10

Arthur Pendragon, leading a group of knights from Camelot and Vallonia, King Ulrik at his side, came upon the same fork in the road hours before Merlin and Odran took the path towards the Druid camp. Prince Arthur, however, led the knights in the opposite direction and the trace let by the many horses was soon erased by the sliding mud and the pouring rain. More than once, Arthur had to yell at the group to be careful and to stay on the track.

"Does it ever stop raining in this bloody country?" muttered King Ulrik at Arthur's side.

The ruler of Vallonia was making every possible effort to keep up with the pace. His horse was an unsteady beast that kept nodding its head in disobedience. Twice it almost knocked the king off its saddle, and every time the physician Emmerich was there to catch his arm.

"Your horse knows the way on this slippery path. Trust him, my Lord."

"Emmerich, I was leading my army to war on _horseback_ while you had your head in books. I know how to beat a horse."

With that comment, the king pulled out a whip. Arthur watched from behind as Emmerich bowed his head low and allowed his king to pass in front of him. Ulrik's horse sped up unwillingly under the cracking of the whip.

"I don't like horses being beaten as well," said Arthur softly.

"My Lord," said Emmerich solemnly, bowing his head lower, if possible.

Arthur had been waiting for an opportunity to have a chat with the physician. The track was making it difficult for the knights to advance in an organised fashion and so the Vallonian man could neither slow down nor speed up when the prince came at level with him.

"I hear that you are from Ealdor," said Arthur, opening the conversation.

He was determined to make every minute count.

"My Lord has heard correctly," replied the physician.

He kept his face hidden under the green hood of his cloak therefore it was hard for Arthur to make out his expression. Still, the impression of familiarity remained and it was making the prince more and more curious.

"I have been to that village not that long ago."

"I left that place when I was still very young, Sire," muttered Emmerich. "I don't remember much of it."

"Is that so?" said the prince, trying not to sound too incredulous. "Did you ever return at any moment in your life?"

The physician looked away. _He's going to lie to me again_, thought Arthur instantly.

"I returned to that village upon my mother's death," said the old man. "I have not seen it ever since."

Arthur looked briefly ahead. Ulrik was still beating his horse on and on. The path was becoming muddier and the rain was intensifying. Arthur looked behind and saw many of his knights helping the Vallonians with their horses.

"Keep your eyes on the woods!" he yelled at them. "Team up in pairs and help each other out with the horses."

With he returned his attention to Emmerich, he saw that the physician was bent on his horse and speaking softly into the animal's ear.

"Speaking to animals can be seen as a sign of magic," said the prince matter-of-factly.

This time the physician looked at him directly with piercing blue eyes. _Those eyes…_ thought Arthur. _So familiar. Could it really be? _The more he looked at the Vallonian, the more the idea did not seem so farfetched.

"Magic," answered the physician, "is often used as an excuse to explain what men have not yet been able to demonstrate. I do not believe that this rain is magic, and neither do you. Yet I use a different approach than beating the horse and immediately you assume it's magic."

"I didn't assume…"

"With all due respect, my Lord," cut in the physician, "I believe you did."

Arthur was taken aback, but he did not know yet if he should feel amused or insulted.

"How can you say that? You do not know me."

Emmerich pulled the hood over his eyes. "I apologise, my Lord, but I believe I do."

"_Excuse me_."

"You are young and arrogant. You believe that ruling is your birthright, but it is a privilege, and that is a lesson that you have yet to learn. It is when you abuse a privilege that you meet resistance, and you will meet it from Druids and farmers alike. The difference between sorcerers and farmers is only the strength with which they can fight back. And let me tell you that a farmer afraid of loosing his land is ten times more powerful than a sorcerer. Still you would imprison those who whisper in the ancient language to calm down a scared animal. It is not the laws of magic that you need to understand, my Lord; it is the laws of nature and of men."

"Do you think I have not heard this speech before," murmured Arthur, leaning closer to the physician. He was surprised at his own countenance. "Do you think I have not considered it? You forget that magic corrupts. It may start with talking to an animal, but what's stopping a sorcerer from taking a life if he has the power to do it with a simple word?"

"You give a sword to your servant, my Lord. That does not mean that he will become a murderer."

Arthur let out a derisive laugh. "I may give a sword to my servant, but that does not mean that he knows how to yield it."

Arthur looked sideways at Emmerich. He was trying to make out his face, but the physician kept looking away, like a child being scolded.

"He may not have many skills, my _servant_, but he has courage and he is loyal. A good heart like his could never kill, not intentionally nor with wrong intentions – not even by accident for that matter. He'd probably just misplace the sword. But I trust him with my life, for some weird reason."

"Would you trust him still, Sire, if you discovered that he had magic?"

Arthur gasped, and then he laughed. He laughed so heartedly that the other knights turned their heads to watch him. The physician, however, seemed to recoil.

"I'm not sure why this is a laughing matter, my Lord," he said between gritted teeth.

"_Merlin_. A _sorcerer_. Believe me when I say that he is a good man, Emmerich, but Merlin is not a sorcerer. You should _know_."

The physician stopped his horse short. "Begging your pardon, my Lord?"

The moment of truth, thought Arthur with sudden anticipation.

"_Merlin_," he enunciated, though he kept his voice down. "He's from _Ealdor_, and so are you. I'm not blind. I see the resemblance. You're his fath…"

"My Lord!"

The yell had come from Sir Leon. Arthur looked in the direction that his knight was pointing to. King Ulrik was struggling to stay on his horse as four or five large men were grabbing him.

"Charge!" yelled Arthur, unsheathing his sword with one hand while guiding his horse with the other.

But King Ulrik had gone too far ahead from the group. He was standing alone in an opening in the trees: the perfect place for an ambush. Arthur knew instantly that he had been careless, talking to Emmerich and not paying attention, but now was not the time for self-reproach. With the knights or Camelor and Vallonia behind him, those four men (one had fallen under Ulrik's sword) did not stand a chance. It was a stupid attempt, really, to attack the king with such a small number, no matter how large those men were. Unless…

"Wait!" cried Arthur when the group was almost at the level with the king.

The Vallonians did not stop at Arthur's command: only his knights did. It was too late. The Druids were attacking from all sides, from the thickness of the trees. They wore dark green cloaks and leaves on their back and looked perfectly at ease moving through the branches.

"Ambush!" shouted the prince. "Knights! Protect the King!"

He was slashing his sword left and right and each time, a green-clad Druid fell to the ground. But this wasn't Arthur Pendragon's first battle, and he knew when he was outnumbered.

Suddenly, a man jumped at him with a yell, and then he fell to the ground with a small knife planted on his back. Arthur immediately saw Emmerich who was fighting behind him.

"You're not a knight!" he yelled furiously. "Get back and stay with the king!"

"Who will protect you, then, my Lord?"

_The same stubbornness_, thought Arthur. For a split second, he had an image of himself bringing the body of Merlin's father, pale and dead, into Camelot. No, it wasn't going to happen. He could never forgive himself.

"Emmerich, get out of the way!" he yelled as the physician brought down more Druids with the many knifes that he was carrying under his cloak.

"And let you get all the glory?" replied the physician playfully.

_Now, that was _too much_ like Merlin. _ The prince had to take matters into his own hands. Pulling at his horse's reins, he stepped out of the circle protecting the king and started to make his way forward through the attackers. He knew that his knights would follow him, and all of them did, but his intention was mainly to divert the enemy away from the king so that the other knights could help him escape. However, when Arthur looked back, he only saw that the Vallonian knights did not seem to know what to do or who to follow. Some of them were even advancing towards him.

"Stay with your king!" shouted Arthur, but he only saw bewildered faces.

He heard a voice besides him and from the corner of his eye he saw Emmerich.

"They're leaderless, Sire. Leave him! Ulrik doesn't deserve… NO! ARTHUR!"

Without an afterthought, Arthur wheeled his horse around and flung himself and his stead into the battle. His sword fell and crashed on all that stood in his way. Above the noise of the pouring rain and the clanging of the swords, he could hear Emmerich's voice loudest.

"Arthur! Come back! Leave him!"

How could he listen to such a plea? How could he allow someone under his protection to be taken so? He was Arthur Pendragon, and he wasn't a coward.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, about a dozen more Druids appeared. They were on Arthur as fast as they took Ulrik. They surrounded him and his horse had nowhere left to go. One of the new attackers had an enormous rusty blade that he was preparing to swing at the prince. Arthur braced himself for the blow that was going to take him down. He waiting for that horrible final crashing noise, but instead he heard a booming voice.

"_Cume thoden_!"

Arthur's eyes darted towards the speaker. Emmerich had raised his right hand and a burst of wind took birth around him. It swirled towards Arthur, lifting branches and moving the rain. The attacker with the rusty sword took a step back, blinded by the sudden wind.

The magic did not last long, and straight away the physician seemed in pain. He was bent on his horse. Arthur could only stare for a short moment. His attackers were coming closer again.

This time, Emmerich's voice was louder and it had the effect of thunder.

"_He thaes frofre gebad, weox under wolcnum, weorthmyndum thah. Eorthe ac stanas hiersumie me. Ic can stanas tobrytan. Hiersumie me."_

The earth began to shake and Arthur immediately knew that his horse was taking fright. Suddenly, the beast was raised on its hid legs and Arthur was falling hopelessly to the ground. The attackers were scurrying back towards the forest. The four who had been dragging an unconscious Ulrik fell on their knees as the earth beneath their feet opened up into a large crevasse. The prince tried to get up, to grab his sword, but he could feel his entire body vibrating along with the ground on which he was laying. It was as though Emmerich was commanding to the earth, and the earth was opening up underneath their feet.

"Emmerich, stop it!" he cried out.

He merely had time to see the physician slump sideway off his horse, his face pale and his body limp. The next thing that he knew was something heavy colliding with the back of his head, and everything became black.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Am I dead?"

"Not yet."

Merlin opened his eyes to find himself staring into the lovely face of a woman. For a moment, her features were shrouded in a pale light. As his eyes got adjusted to his surroundings, the light faded away to reveal a soft expression that was reminding him strangely of his mother.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Glinda."

With a jolt, he realised that he was still in the tent where he and Prince Odran had been brought. However, he wasn't tied up anymore_. I passed out_, he thought. His immediate reaction was to look at his chest. It was bare, and there was a thin red line where the deep cut had been. There was no more pain, except for a slight headache.

"It's all right. I'm a Healer," said the woman in the same soft tone.

He was glad that he still had his shirt, even though it was pulled up. He felt a little awkward in her presence. He was even afraid that he was blushing. She wore a flowing white and green dress, simple, but that seemed to wrap her in a sort of pale glow. _A Healer_, he thought. _She has magic which means… She's the woman I heard in my head in the woods! She was the one hesitating about attacking Ulrik and Arthur._

"Thank you," he murmured.

"How about untying _me_, huh?"

Merlin wheeled around and saw the Vallonian prince kneeling, hands tied together in front of him, and then chained to a pole at the center of the tent. He had an arrogant smirk on his face that was reminding Merlin of Arthur.

"If you escape, my husband will kill me himself," the woman, Glinda, said as she cut Odran's bonds.

Merlin could read the conflict in her eyes.

"Who is your husband?" asked Merlin, keeping his voice down.

"He's the one holding you here. He's also the one who is going to kill Ulrik of Vallonia and Arthur Pendragon."

Merlin immediately sprang to his feet.

"Slow down!" she said, holding her hands up to stop him. "You cannot escape this camp."

"Maybe he can," said Odran threateningly. "Maybe he has _magic_."

Merlin almost passed out again, but this time out of shock. He expected to see surprise on the woman's face, but instead there was only a pleading expression.

"I know," she said. "You… You're Emrys, aren't you?"

He slumped unto the ground, the name reaching inside of him like a dagger. _That name again. It's the name that Mordred uses,_ he thought. He could feel the weight of the prophecy on him like a burden. He hated not being in control of his destiny more than he had had the courage to admit to anyone.

"You must be hungry."

Glinda stood up and disappeared through the opening in the tent. Merlin followed her with his gaze and saw the silhouette of a child against the canvas, but no guards. She spoke to the boy, and then she returned. In her arms, she had Merlin's brown cloak.

"Willie is going to return with bread," she announced.

"Willie?" said Odran. He had noticed the child as well.

"William. My son. He's curious about you. About _both_ of you."

Odran came to sit besides Merlin, but he kept his back straighter and his eyes kept darting towards the opening to the outside.

"His name is not Emrys, by the way. He's Arthur's manservant. He's called _Martin_," said the prince.

"_Merlin_." He tried not to sound too insulted.

"Right. Sorry."

"Among our people, he is called Emrys," said Glinda softly, more to Merlin's attention than to Odran. "We are not like the other Druids. Our magic is tied to the elements: Earth, Water, Air, Fire. The body is made of mostly water, which is how I am able to heal. There used to be some of us who could yield such powers…" She paused, her voice strained. "Well, that's over now. There is just my husband and me, and he is powerful and without restraint. He would have killed you, my Lord."

Odran merely snorted. "Why not? He's already killed the other princes of Vallonia."

Merlin decided to ignore him. "You don't approve your husband?"

"He used to be concerned about our people, about our beliefs and our legacy. But ever since Godric died, all he cares about is revenge."

"Godric?" repeated Odran, his face red with anger. "Your husband _killed_ him! He killed my brother!"

She did not reply right away. There was something in her eyes like sorrow. A great loss.

"Godric was too much like his father. He wouldn't hear reason. My husband, he tried to make him listen, to make him understand, but when he realised that he couldn't…"

Merlin didn't need to hear the rest. "That's when he decided to kill him."

She took a deep breathe, holding back tears. "He shouldn't have had to. It was murder. To kill his own brother…"

"_Brother_?" gasped Merlin and Odran at once.

Odran jumped to his feet. "Bryan!" he yelled.

But the woman, Glinda, had anticipated his move. Now she was on her feet too, interposing herself between the prince and the doorway.

"I beg you, my Lord! He will kill you!" she pleaded.

Odran was fast. He bent low and Merlin saw him reach for a dagger that he was hiding inside his boot. The young warlock could see that the prince was agile even though his hands were tied. The Vallonian knew how to use the weapon, even if he did not mean to kill.

"Step aside!" he yelled.

Merlin's reaction was instinctive. He jumped to his feet and cried out: _"Ahatian!"_

In a flash, the dagger in Odran's tied hands became red hot and he dropped it with a yelp of pain. The next thing that Merlin knew was that he was grabbing his throbbing head and swaying into Glinda's arms. Odran did not waste a moment. He used Glinda's diverted attention to grab her from behind, circling her neck with his tied up hands.

"No, Odran!" Merlin managed to say.

"Don't you dare lecture _me_, sorcerer! You've been helping them all along!" snapped back the young prince.

"No, he hasn't! Not him! There's someone else. Odran, you have to understand. Emrys, he's more important than you or…"

Merlin wasn't paying attention to their words. He was pushing back in a corner of his mind the pain and also the awareness that Odran knew his biggest secret. All his energy was bent on moving the dagger from the ground where it lay, into Odran's left ankle, not to hurt him, but to sting just enough for him to release the woman. It should have been effortless. Moving things was as easy for him as breathing. Why, then, did he feel drops of sweat into his eyes?

"Mother?"

The sudden intrusion of the child, William, was a big enough diversion for Odran. He pushed the woman forward so that she fell on top of her child. He then reached for the dagger, but Merlin's mind was already bent on the object and he pushed it out of the way. With a scream of anger, the Vallonian prince pulled out another knife, a much smaller one, a physician's tool, from under his belt and he sprinted towards the woman.

"_Gescildan_!"

He couldn't quite figure out how he had managed to produce such a powerful spell in his weakened condition. He had placed the invisible shield between Odran and Glinda in an effort to protect the mother and child. The prince stumbled backwards, his eyes darted towards Merlin, and then he fell on his knees. The knife slipped from his fingers and the prince's expression became that of the physician's apprentice once more.

"What have I done?" he muttered, burying his face in his hands.

The child, William, releasing himself from his mother's embrace, took a few steps towards the prince and pressed a hand on his shoulder.

"_Emrys_! Odran, help me!"

Merlin felt both the woman and the prince support him as his knees gave out and he fell to the ground, shaking and shivering from the effort. He didn't want to lie down, so he managed to stay in a sitting position. The woman wrapped the brown cloak around his shoulders. Her young son brought the bread and he gave a piece of it to Odran first.

"I thought you said you healed him," murmured Odran. "He looks feverish."

"Something's terribly wrong," said Glinda, peering into Merlin's eyes.

He didn't like her stare. It made him feel as though he was naked, as though she could see right through him.

"It's a curse," he managed to say.

Without another word, the woman extended her hand and pressed her palm on his forehead. Immediately, Merlin felt himself drifting into a hazy dream-like state. He was alone on a field, the wind blowing around him, and he was staring at himself. Only, it wasn't _him_. It was another person who looked like him. That person had the dirty look of a traveler, a paler face with dark circles under his eyes. There was an object too, gleaming around the man's neck: a golden medallion. And the voice, it was whispering at the back of his mind.

_I don't remember ever being that young. You've got to be stopped._

And then, there had been nothing but pain.

Merlin's eyes snapped back open and he was staring into Glinda's face again. She had withdrawn her hand. Odran looked taken aback, almost scared, while the young boy was merely interested.

"What you saw, I saw it too," murmured the woman. "It's the source of the enchantment."

"It's me," protested the young warlock. "Do you mean that _I_ am the source of the enchantment?"

"I'm not sure," she answered. "But to break the enchantment, you will have to destroy it, whether it is a person or an object."

"Why is he so important?" inquired the Vallonian prince. He was looking at Merlin as though seeing him in a brand new light. "He's just a servant, is he not?"

"A long time ago, one of our elders spoke of Emrys, a being of the magical realm, who would give his life to end the suffering of our people and restore the balance of the elements."

Merlin gasped and almost choked on a piece of bread. "Give his _life_?"

"And restore the balance of the elements," repeated Glinda.

"Well, I can't really do anything while my magic is blocked," said Merlin with a smirk.

Odran looked pensive. "Listen," he began to say to the woman, "we have to get out of here. I want to talk to Bryan, but on my own terms, not as a prisoner. If you help us escape, I will help Merlin with that curse that's on him."

Glinda looked incredulous.

"I'm not like my father," insisted the prince, and Merlin was impressed with his sincerity. "Nor am I like Godric. You have my word."

Merlin could see in the woman's face that she was only thinking of her son's safety. Odran was convincing, but she needed reassurance.

"I trust him," he stated. "He's seen too many people die in this conflict already."

She looked at Odran meaningfully. "You must swear to protect him and help him," she said. "_Emrys_. He's important to us all."

"I swear."

She let out a sigh of relief.

"Wait here. I will think of a way to let you escape."

As soon as she was out of the tent, the child following in her footsteps, Merlin got rid of the cloak and started to untie Odran's hands. He felt a lot less shaky after eating a little. He was certain that if he could refrain from using magic, he would be fine.

"Will you stop looking at me like that?" he muttered after a while of feeling Odran's stare.

"Sorry?"

"Will you stop looking at me like that… my Lord?"

Odran let out a loud and clear laugh. "A sorcerer! And right under Arthur's nose! You must be a lot smarter than you look!"

Merlin could not help but smile widely. "You have no idea."

Author's note: OK I'm already working on the next chapter, so don't despair and keep watching (reading)! Also, please review. We don't write for any money, so the reviews are our rewards. Be generous!

Thanks.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Arthur Pendragon, his hair dripping with rain, his cloak soaked and covered with mud, was brought to his knees in front of the leader of the Druids of the Black Leaf. He was a war prisoner in a fight that didn't even concern him. He did not blame his knights for his current position. He was only glad that most of them were still alive, even though they were now in chains. All of his anger was directed at King Ulrik who had brought this conflict into Camelot for his own selfish purposes, and on the physician Emmerich, Merlin's _father_, who was, apparently, also a sorcerer.

He could see both men now besides him, and he had a hard time deciding which one of them he hated more. However, he had to contain his rage and to keep his wits about him; otherwise he would not get out of these woods alive.

The man now standing in front of him had a shaved head and a long black cloak. He gave the impression of a knight wearing a monk's outfit. His eyes, dark and furious, were not leaving King Ulrik's.

"Hello, _father_."

Arthur looked at the king in horror. "_Father_?"

"Didn't he tell you?" replied the Druid. "I am Bryan, prince of Vallonia."

"I renounced you long ago," muttered the king.

The man called Bryan laughed a cruel laugh. "Did you renounce Godric as well, father, when you sent him to do your bidding?"

"Of course not."

"Of course not!" bellowed the Druid. "He was your favorite. Your puppet. You sent Godric to do what you could not. To kill me."

"That's a lie," snarled the king.

Arthur could only stare from one to the other, bewildered by the family feud to which he was but a witness.

Ulrik could no longer contain his anger. "You killed him!" he burst out. "You killed your _brother_!"

"You corrupted him!" retorted the Druid. "You turned him against me, against my kind. He was already dead to my eyes."

"He was your brother!" repeated the king. "You have forsaken what is most sacred!"

"And what did you do?" yelled Bryan. "You would have burned me at the stake for practicing magic. I learned magic to do some good in this world, not to kill my own blood!"

"You have been corrupted by power!" replied Ulrik.

"ENOUGH!"

It was Emmerich who had shouted. Arthur was surprised to hear him speak at all. With his black and white hair splattered across his face, it was hard to make out his expression.

"You got what you wanted," said the physician. "You have Ulrik. Arthur is not part of the bargain."

Bryan's reply was to unsheathe a sword that was hanging at his belt and to place it on Emmerich's neck, but the physician did not budge. Ulrik was pursing his lips and Arthur immediately thought that he had the look of someone who has just been betrayed.

"This day just keeps getting better and better," muttered the prince under his breath.

"Be careful what you are going to say, sorcerer of the old religion," said the Druid warningly. "So far, you have promised much but delivered little. Weren't you supposed to take care of the sorcerer protecting Camelot?"

He was turning his blade over and over, pressing it on Emmerich's right shoulder, admiring it as though he was seeing parts of his plan in it.

"He is more powerful than I anticipated, my Lord," replied Emmerich evasively.

"More powerful than you, no doubt. I shall take care of him myself," declared the Druid.

There was an interruption. One of Bryan's men came to talk to him in a low voice. The sword was momentarily withdrawn while he whispered back some instructions. Arthur took this opportunity to speak his mind to Emmerich.

"And you're a traitor. That's just great! Is there anything else I should know?"

"I'm sorry, my Lord," said the old man. He was not looking at Arthur but at Ulrik.

"How could you?" whispered the king. Arthur had expected him to be outraged, but instead, his tone was sorrowful, defeated.

Emmerich's reply was barely audible. "You told me to protect Odran and Ursulla. That's what I did, my Lord."

"You can still make the right choice," offered Arthur. "You're a sorcerer. You can get us out of…"

He didn't finish his sentence. Bryan had returned his attention to his prisoners. There was a contemptuous smirk on his face_. This can't be good_… thought Arthur instantly.

"We have captured prince Odran," declared the Druid. "He followed you into the forest. There was a servant with him. One of yours, Pendragon."

Arthur couldn't help but half-smile. "Let me guess: not very tall, kind of skinny, dark hair, big ears with an equally big mouth?"

"That sounds about right, except for the big mouth: he was passed out."

Arthur let out a sigh of irritation. "_Merlin_."

"Bryan!" said Emmerich forcefully while rising to his feet. He ignored stubbornly the few swords that were almost instantly pointed at him. "Do not add another murder to this quarrel. Odran is innocent, and so is Arthur. You are playing with forces that are beyond your control."

Arthur could foresee many outcomes after this comment, and almost all of them ended with Emmerich lying on the ground, dead. What he did not expect was to hear the black Druid laugh.

"My knowledge of magic is more extensive than yours, Emmerich," he snorted. "The balance will only be restored when enough royal blood had been spilled. Just as they killed our leaders, we shall kill theirs."

"But when does it end?" said the physician. "How much blood is enough blood? You're gathering power to yourself by doing this, but you do not know control. You must end this folly now!"

"I will not be lectured by you, traitor. _Forbaern yfel_."

Arthur had not expected fire to surround them. He jumped to his feet and took a few steps back, as did the other men. Ulrik screamed as the flames touched his arm. Only Emmerich seemed untroubled. And then Arthur saw something amazing. Emmerich whispered some words and his eyes turned momentarily _gold_. The fire died away in a flash, but the spell had taken its toll on the physician. He swayed a little and he was clutching his head.

"That's it?" laughed Bryan. "That's all you've got?"

For a short moment, Arthur thought that he saw something change in Emmerich's blue eyes. Were they turning _gold_ again? And then their eyes met, a decision was made, and the physician became passive at last. Arthur watched him recoil as one who is defeated after only the first blow. Two men came to tie his hands behind his back. One of them was carrying a heavy metal chain which he wrapped around the old man.

"I think I will hang on to you a little longer, Emmerich," said Bryan. "I still need you to identify the other sorcerer. _Gehaeftan_!"

At Bryan's command, the chain glowed and tightened itself around Emmerich's chest, making him wince in pain.

The Druid then turned to Arthur.

"Pendragon should pay for what his father did to our kind, but not tonight. I think that Uther should _watch_ as we burn his son alive."

"NO!" bellowed Emmerich.

But he was powerless against the magic chain. Arthur heard him shout a spell as Bryan's men were taking him away, but the result was only a scream of pain. The last that Arthur saw of Merlin's father before he, himself, was taken away, was the outline of a hooded man disappearing into the blackness of the forest.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Merlin felt stunned at his own boldness.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" whispered Prince Odran. He was pulling the Druid black cloak closer to his face. All trace of the green Vallonian tunic had been removed from his outfit.

They had decided, along with Glinda, the Druid leader's wife, to make it appear as though they had escaped. They had tied her up in the tent along with her son, William; a situation which the young boy had found rather amusing. He kept giggling and talking about the good "joke" they were doing to his father. Then, Merlin had pronounced the spell that would put them both to sleep for a short time. Now, his head was throbbing, but it had been the only way to make it convincing without injuring the woman or the child.

Merlin pulled the brown hood of his own cloak over his head and glanced rapidly at their surroundings. It was nighttime now and all of the men seemed to have left their positions for some unknown reason. The few tents were vacant. A few horses were tied to a tree and were unwatched. It was dark and the camp was only partially lit by a few fires that were slowly going out. It was almost too good to be true.

"This isn't a good plan, Merlin," said Odran quietly.

"If you have a better one, be my guest."

"Well, it depends."

"On what?"

Odran stared at him inquiringly, but the young sorcerer felt feverish and tired and he didn't feel like arguing.

"If they got here on horses, then there must be a way out of these woods," he said stubbornly. "If you have anything else to suggest…"

"Like I said, it depends," said Odran, cutting him off.

The prince pulled his arm before Merlin could make a move.

"If we were to encounter my brother, how powerful are you? Could you take him on?"

"No!" cried out Merlin forcefully, but he regretted it as soon as he saw the look on Odran's face. "Not with that curse on me. I'm not trained or anything. All this talk about my being special… Well, let's just say it's a lot bigger than that. It isn't about me. It's about Arthur and Camelot."

There was a short pause during which the Vallonian prince seemed to think.

"What if we could break that curse?"

Merlin felt powerless. The vision had only been about him. He had no idea what it could mean.

"I don't know _how_," he admitted.

Odran's smirk was intriguing. "Suppose that I know someone who might."

"Who do you mean?"

There was a noise like broken branches and many footsteps.

Odran gasped. "Too late. Here they come."

He pulled Merlin's arm, this time to bring him behind a fallen tree trunk where both of them got a better look of the group of men who were walking back towards the tents.

Merlin's inside twisted painfully as soon as he saw him. "_Arthur_…" he breathed out.

"They have my father too," murmured Odran, "but where is…?"

But Merlin was already moving, going from tree trunk to tree trunk under the cover of darkness. It didn't matter that he couldn't use his magic. There was no way that he was going back to Camelot without Arthur. He looked around, and then he saw the horses. The tallest one, a magnificent black animal, had a saddle with bags and gears attached to it. Merlin lifted a heavy black blanket only to find an old sword. It didn't look like much, it was even a bit rusty, but it was a weapon.

"What are you doing? Are you _mad_?" called out Odran in a hoarse whisper.

"We have to free Arthur," replied Merlin while following the prisoners with his gaze.

"With _what_? A sword? Have you realized that there are only two of us and you aren't exactly…?"

"Exactly _what_?"

Odran fell silent. He was watching the prisoners as well. Arthur and King Ulrik had just been taken inside a wooden cage, the sort of thing that was used to keep cattle. A tall hooded figure, with a shaved head, suddenly cried out and the words were in the old language of magic. It made Merlin's insides tightened. He could feel the other man's power creeping under his skin. It was dark magic of a kind that he had rarely seen or felt.

"Are you all right?"

Odran was looking at him as though he was going to pass out again.

"I'm fine," he lied, "but I can't go up against magic of that kind."

"No, you can't," said Odran. "That's my brother, Bryan. He was away from Vallonia for many years, training to become a better warrior. When he came back, he was different. He told us that his training hadn't been what it was supposed to be. And then, he showed us his magic. I thought that my father was going to kill him right on the spot, but he wouldn't have stood a chance against Bryan. It was scary. It took all of my father's knights to drive him out of the castle. It became an endless fight between him and my father. Godric sided with my father and was killed. And when they brought back his body, they told the whole kingdom that Bryan was mortally wounded. I guess the lie suited my father's purposes of bringing Ursulla to Camelot so that she would marry Arthur."

"She doesn't stand a chance," muttered Merlin under his breath.

"That's what Arthur told me," said Odran. "Emmerich tried to dissuade my father to come to Camelot, which is the only reason why we didn't come last year. Emmerich also told us that Bryan was as good as dead."

"Interesting fellow," snorted Merlin. "He looks… I don't know… _familiar_, I guess."

"That's the way everyone feels about him. Emmerich, it would seem, is the one person that we need, and the one person who isn't here."

Odran then took the lead and Merlin held on to the old sword as though it was a reminder of how hopeless their situation was. He had never felt so powerless. Arthur and Ulrik were well guarded. Bryan had disappeared inside a tent but he was keeping a close watch on the wooden "prison". Without magic, or a very good diversion, there was no getting near that cage.

"If you had captured a sorcerer, where would you keep him?" asked Odran elusively.

Merlin suddenly remembered that Gaius had said something about Emmerich having magic.

"Probably in a dark place, like a cave," he offered.

Suddenly, a wave of magic hit him. It felt like a rock hitting him on the head. And the _voice_. It was the same voice that he had heard that night on a field, standing in front of a nameless traveler.

_Merlin_. _Help me_.

He heard Odran's worried voice, but it was too much right now. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"Quiet!" gasped Merlin.

He closed his eyes. The pain was intense so he tried to focus on the voice as best as he could so that he could reply back.

_Where are you_? He said inside his head.

The reply was weak. _Cave_. _Water. Find a source of water._

"What?"

Merlin was almost surprised to find Odran still there. It was like waking up from a dream. His head felt like it was going to split open.

"Find a source of water," he repeated to the prince.

"The horses. They were drinking…"

Carefully, thy made their way back to the horses. They found the animals, but they were now guarded by three large cloaked men.

Merlin didn't even think twice about the consequence of using his magic. He raised his hand and said: "_Forbearnan firgenholt_!**"** A branch instantly fell on one of the guards' head and he crumbled to the ground, unconscious. The other two unsheathed their swords, but Merlin was faster. He cried "_Swefe nu_!" and both men fell to the ground sound asleep.

As soon as he had finished the sleeping spell, he felt his legs wobble and his eyes loosing their focus.

"That's enough," said Odran commandingly. "Allow me."

Pulling Merlin by the arm, he reached pass the horses and found a small stream leading deeper into the woods. Merlin felt his legs following but could not tell how long they walked into the forest. He felt weak and feverish and useless.

"There it is."

He looked up wearily and followed Odran's gaze. There, in front of them, was the entrance of a dark cave, and it was guarded this time by four men. One of them was yawning and the other three had pulled out playing cards. They were sitting close around a small fire.

"_Merlin_," said Odran quietly. "_Merlin_, you need to stay here. Stay safe."

"What are you doing?" he asked in a whisper.

But Odran was already on the move. He had pulled out a knife, another one, from under his cloak. Quickly but noiselessly, he sneaked up on the first guard and slit his throat. It was done in such a way that the man's voice was cut off instantly. The other three guards noticed that Odran was near them only when it was too late. The prince used his knife in the same way on a second guard. The third and the fourth pulled out their swords. They were big men, much taller and heavier than Odran, and the physician's apprentice was knocked over after only a few blows. Merlin stepped in closer; he had to do something.

"_Lyfte ic pe in balwen ac forhienan se wideor_!"

Answering to his command, the small fire burst into a huge many colored flame that, blown in a gust of wind, took down the third and fourth guard.

Merlin's eyesight became dim. He had stretched his body to a maximum and he knew it. He felt an arm under his shoulder lifting him. _Odran_. No words were exchanged. Both of them simply walked into the cave where, Merlin knew from the magic, the traveler who had taken his power stood, powerless, like him, and waiting.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Merlin fell on his knees. The rusty sword slipped from his fingers and landed on the ground with a _clang_. He looked up and saw a shadowy figure on the ground in the same position that he was. A single torch was casting light on the physician's tired face. The two strands of white hair were covering his eyes and a glimmering chain was around his torso.

"Odran, you shouldn't be here," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Neither should you. Let me see if I can get you out of these chains."

"You won't be able to. They're magical."

Odran's face was like stone.

"I suppose that Bryan knows how to keep you under his control. After all, you are a sorcerer like him."

The physician looked up at the prince pleadingly. "This is the second time that I have to hide my magic. I should have known that history would repeat itself." Merlin thought that he saw Emmerich's eyes flash in his direction, but the impression did not last for long. "How did you find out?" the physician asked Odran.

"When you were wounded after the death of Godric," answered the prince bluntly. "I was left to tend to you and you were mumbling in your sleep. The next thing I knew, your injuries were healing by themselves and unnaturally fast. You said things, too. Most of it was in a different language, but some of it was _Arthur_ and _Camelot_."

"And you didn't say anything?"

Odran merely shrugged. "My father would have had you killed and I would have lost my mentor. I don't know what kind of sorcerer you are, but you're the best physician Vallonia has ever had."

The look of fondness that Emmerich had for his apprentice was very stirring for Merlin, like an echo of him and Gaius. He forced himself to look away, but one glance at his shaking hands was enough to remind him of the urgency of their situation.

He felt that a polite coughing was in order. "I don't mean to intrude on … err… this private moment, but we're going to get company very soon. We should try to cut your bonds with the sword..."

The effort of getting up wasn't as bad as the intense pain in his head. The sudden move made him gasp and stop in mid-sentence. He ignored voluntarily Odran's worried expression and picked up the sword without much ceremony. Instantly, he was surprised at how light it felt. Was magic surrounding it? In his present state, he couldn't be sure. All that he knew was that to cut Emmerich's magical chain would require all that was left of his strength.

He positioned himself behind the kneeling physician so that he could aim the blow directly at the wrists. He was moving as though in a hazy dream; the headache was impairing his vision. He knew the words, of course, but performing a spell was always more than just words.

"What are you doing? I forbid you to do it!" gasped Emmerich.

"It's all right. He has magic," said Odran reassuringly. He then leaned closer to Merlin. "I promised that I would help you and keep you safe, but for that we need Emmerich. Can you handle it?"

Merlin closed his eyes hard, trying to block out the pain. He hated being so weak and powerless. He hated that someone had done this to him. He hated the look of concern on Odran's face. But he knew, deep inside, that he had to put all of that anger and frustration aside in order to help Arthur. It was just one of those moments when he had to be the selfless warlock, the protector of Camelot, yet again, all in the name of a destiny greater than himself. It suddenly all felt so remote, so farfetched…

"Merlin?" whispered Odran.

Now was not a good time for doubts.

"That last bit of spells might have been too much," he breathed out, pushing back the dark thoughts.

"You're… you've been using your magic!" stammered Emmerich. "Are you insane? Are you actually an idiot? Gaius especially told you not too…"

"How do you know that?" said Merlin sharply.

He immediately walked around the kneeling man. _Once and for all_, he thought_, I'm going to_ _have a look at that face…_

The physician was bent down, avoiding Merlin's gaze. And then he saw it: a gleaming golden medallion around Emmerich's neck. There was a crest on it. A golden dragon. The _Camelot_ crest.

"Where did you get that? Who are you?"

But their attention was diverted when they heard echoing voices and far-off footsteps outside the cave.

"Merlin, cut him loose!" shouted Odran who had positioned himself at the cave's entrance. "We've got to go!"

Merlin took up the sword hesitantly. There was one left to say, something important.

"Odran, when Emmerich is free, I want you both to leave me here and to go and save Arthur. You have to free Arthur and your father. Nothing is more important. I'm not worth… Don't wait around for me because I'll be incapacitated. Do you understand me?"

Odran shouted something back, but all that Merlin could hear was Emmerich's bellowing voice. "You'll die! You don't realize…"

"_Bregdan anweald gafeluec!"_

After enunciating the spell, Merlin knew two things. Fortly, he should have changed the word 'javelin' for 'sword'; the weapon was too small to be charged with that much magic. And secondly, he would have drunk a lot more of Gaius' potion if he had known that he was going to use that particular spell.

The burst of blue light pierced the darkness of the cave with the same intensity as the pain now shooting through his body. He felt his legs give out and his head hit the ground. He only managed to cling to the sword because he was afraid that the weapon would harm anyone who would try to pick it up. He could feel it burning his hand now.

"_Merlin_! Drop it, Merlin! Drop the sword!" he heard Odran shout in panic.

Before he could reply, he felt his body being lifted from the ground. Someone had picked him up and was carrying him outside of the cave. _Emmerich_. The light of many torches passed in front of Merlin's eyes, but they quickly became only blurs. They were in the woods now. Branches were hurting his face. He could hear the physician panting. This couldn't go on for much longer.

"Leave me. Save Arthur," he managed to say.

"You're such an idiot. You always _were_ an idiot. It's a wonder that I managed to survive this long."

Merlin's reply died in his throat. Emmerich had magic and it was surrounding him, piercing him, hurting like knifes. What did the physician mean? It didn't make any sense. Merlin repeated the words in his head over and over. _It's a wonder that I managed to survive this long._ And then, there had been the mysterious traveler. _I don't remember being this young_. Where did this personal tone come from? It was the only thing keeping him from total darkness. The idea was slowly growing in his mind. Could it be possible? Could there be magic this powerful?

A sudden drop brought him back to where he was. Emmerich had released him and he was now lying on the ground, shaking helplessly. Swords were clashing all around him and he saw the dim outline of Odran and Emmerich fighting side by side. They had both managed to find swords. Odran had the rusty one which had burnt Merlin's hand. Emmerich had a long and heavy-looking weapon that could have belonged to a knight. It was a wonder that the old man could yield such a weapon so precisely. They were fighting together, the physician and the apprentice.

The battle did not last long. Merlin was starting to recover his senses when he saw them bent over, panting, but otherwise unharmed, with their victim's bodies lying at their feet.

"This one is still alive," said Odran solemnly. "Emmerich, end his suffering, will you?"

Without any hesitation, the physician thrust his sword straight into the Druid's chest. The body writhed for mere seconds and then it moved no more.

_That's not me_, Merlin thought bitterly_. I'm not like that. I could never so coldly._

Still, he had to ask the question that was burning him, and he knew that he wasn't going to like the answer.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

They were kneeling front of each other, a small blaze between them. Merlin felt exhausted and sick. His right hand was badly burnt and he could feel it stinging in the cold night air. The old physician looked tired as well and he had difficulty catching his breath. Odran was circling around the trees, watching for fear that their escape had been discovered. It was only a matter of minutes. They had left such a trail of bodies that the alarm would be given instantly.

"Emmerich, can you do anything for him? He's getting worst every time he uses his magic. He can't go on like this much longer," said the prince worriedly.

But Merlin's main concern was not the curse that was impairing his magic. It was the identity of the man kneeling in front of him. He had a tired expression, black hair with strand of white around his face, large shoulders but otherwise slender features. He wasn't the type of warrior that Arthur was, but a man who had been forced to take extreme measures often in his life.

_My life_, thought Merlin. _How did I end up like this? How did I end up_ here?

"Who are you?" he asked plainly. He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it out loud.

The physician flashed his eyes in anger. "You _are_ an idiot. You weren't supposed to use your magic. It should have been easy. Most of the time, you don't use it anyway to keep it secret."

"You know each other?" inquired Odran who was following the conversation only remotely.

"It's more than that," murmured Merlin.

Emmerich's rage went on. "You are a fool and you're foolishness will bring about the end of Camelot and of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table."

"_King_ Arthur," gasped Merlin.

"Of course, _King_ Arthur! What did you think was going to happen?"

So it was true. It was against all logic, against the laws of nature, but still it was true. Was he really looking at his future self? How did he become so bitter, so full of anger?

"_What_ happens?" He wanted to add 'in the future', but he wasn't ready to voice out that terrible truth yet.

Emmerich jumped to his feet, pacing around. He looked like a man who had just remembered a very bad dream and was trying to escape it.

"It's all so confused now," he confessed. "It was the most ridiculous idea. Then again, we're very good at having stupid ideas, you and I. _Court sorcerer_. Why not? Arthur was King. He would understand. He wouldn't burn me at the stake. On that day of days, I was so full of hope, so confidant. I thought that the world had changed in a single moment. And so I told him without ceremony, without fear, that I was the sorcerer that had been eluding him and the whole of Camelot for all those years."

Merlin allowed himself a wide smile. "It doesn't sound so bad."

"It was stupid and selfish," growled Emmerich. "How was Arthur supposed to react? I basically told him that I had been lying to him for years. His_ best friend_ lied to him for years. Do you know what that can do to a man in Arthur's position? You should have seen the look on his face."

"I suppose that I _will_ see it," offered Merlin.

Emmerich was standing away from the blaze now and his face was half hidden in the shadows. "I won't let you do it," he let out in a hoarse whisper.

The voice rang in Merlin's ears like an echo; not from the future, but from the past. The command that had compelled him to walk out of the castle in the middle of the night; it had been Emmerich's doing. _I know it's hard to understand especially right now, but I'm doing this for your own good._

"You did this to me. You… _cursed_ me." He couldn't help the bitterness that he felt.

The reply was but a whisper. "I had no choice."

"What?" said Odran. "Emmerich, tell me it isn't true."

A cracking sound. All three of them fell silent. Merlin covered the blaze with sand using his good hand. When he looked up, Odran was holding his sword at Emmerich's throat.

"You will undo your curse," the prince said in a low voice.

Emmerich seemed to cower a little. "You don't understand."

Merlin stepped closer to Odran. "Try me," he insisted.

"The monsters, witches, druids and sorcerers of every kind," grumbled the physician between gritted teeth, "it's your magic that draws them to Camelot. _Your_ magic! What you're trying to do, it has nothing to do with Arthur. Nothing! He doesn't want to be this great prophetic figure. He just wants to be a good king, a man, and nothing more. You're the one who wants him to change the world."

"That's not true…"

"It _is_ the truth! It's what's going to happen. And if you don't stop, you'll be the death of him."

Merlin tried to shut out the words, but it was too late. _You'll be the death of him_.

_Arthur_.

_Dead_.

_Because of him_.

He felt a wave of agony. How could he be so selfish? Were his actions really going to bring about this doom? Could he really be the source of such suffering?

"Is there any way to change…?" he managed to say.

"_Yes_. Your magic. It must stop."

"But how am I going to protect him?" burst out Merlin.

"No. You're the one who must be stopped."

It was Odran who had spoken. He was still aiming the rusty sword at Emmerich's neck. "Undo the curse."

Emmerich was shrinking against the trees. "I shouldn't have gotten involved in Vallonia," he mumbled.

Odran brought the sword a little closer. "Well, you _did_," he replied, "and now I have made a promise to a very nice lady. I don't really care who you are. You're going to put an end to Merlin's curse or I'll tell my father that you have magic. Now is the time to choose your side, Emmerich. It's the Druids or Arthur. It can't be both."

The physician looked like a man who is about to surrender. "You can be such a _pratt_," he told the prince.

He was fiddling with something around his neck. The golden medallion. Merlin's mind raced fast. He jumped forward, grabbed the medallion with his good hand, and pulled as hard as he could. The thin chain broke with a _snap_ and Emmerich let out a small yelp.

"Don't think that I won't curse you again," yelled the physician, his eyes fixed on the chain now dangling from Merlin's hand.

"I thought you might say that."

Merlin saw Odran raise his hand and hit Emmerich on the head with the hilt of the sword. But the prince did not let his mentor fall helplessly; he caught him by the shoulders and lowered him softly unto the ground.

"Can you destroy it?" he asked Merlin.

"Yes, I think… Give me the sword!"

The rusty sword had been charged with powerful magic when Merlin had freed Emmerich. It was the perfect weapon to destroy the object of an enchantment.

Quickly, he placed the medallion on a tree stump and thrust the sword's tip straight into the center of the medallion. Immediately, he felt a wave of magic surround him. It was so overwhelming that for a moment he thought that he was going to drown in it. When he opened his eyes again, Odran was looking at him with a bewildered look on his face.

"Merlin, you're… You're _glowing_! Your eyes!"

"It worked," whispered Merlin.

"You don't need to tell me. What are you?"

There was no time for that.

"Listen, Odran. I will go and free Arthur and your father. You must stay here and guard... _him_."

They were both leaning over Emmerich's unconscious body. Odran had checked the bump on his head and now he looked worried.

"I shouldn't have hit him."

"You had to."

"Your eyes are still… strange. What about your hand?"

Merlin looked down at his injury. He could feel the magic all the way down to his fingertips. It wasn't painful; it was natural, like blood in his veins. He felt like a stream in the thaw season when the ice melts and the water starts flowing again. Until that moment, he had never felt just how much magic was an essential part of him. Magic was his life, nothing less. All that was required now were a few words.

"_Gestathole_. _Thurhhaele_," he said.

The redness of the burn vanished almost instantly, leaving Odran perplexed again.

"You've still got glowing eyes," he commented. "Do you think you can free them on your own? Do you have that kind of magic?"

Merlin glanced at the darkness in front of him and, opening his mind, he sensed the presence of the other sorcerer: Bryan. It was a different magic; not a flow of life and nature, but a bubble of burning anger. He had rarely been up against that kind of power.

"If I can get to them unseen, I can free them."

"And then what?"

The thought made Merlin wince. "And then we better hope that Bryan doesn't find us. If he does…"

Odran seemed to think. "He's only my half-brother," he declared. "He was born of my father's first marriage and the woman died. She was only a servant girl. Then my father remarried to a noble woman and had Godric, Ursulla and me. Bryan always felt neglected somehow. You can use that against him. Just tell him he's the lesser son. He hates that. And _Merlin_!"

"What?"

"If you don't want Arthur to find out about your magic, you had better stop with the glowing eyes."

But he had no idea how to make that stop. All that he knew was that Arthur was in trouble and it was up to him to save him again. And after that, he would have to deal with his future self returning to the past to stop him from doing what he's been most fantasizing about: telling Arthur about this magic.

"One thing at the time," he muttered to himself as he made his way through the dark forest. "Just a typical day in Camelot."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Arthur was sitting against the side of the cage, thinking. It was dark now. They had been in there, trapped in a wooden cage, for hours. In the glow of the campfire, he could see at least a dozen large men guarding him and King Ulrik. The ruler of Vallonia had not spoken a word ever since their capture. He had only winced when Arthur had wrapped his burnt arm in a bandage made with his own red cape. Now the old man was starring blankly at the tent in which he knew that the son who had deserted him was planning his death. Of all his misfortunes, Arthur was happiest for the fact that he was _not_ in the king's position, nor in Bryan's.

There had been no news about Prince Odran's capture, or Merlin's. Arthur could only assume, and hope, that both of them were unaccounted for. They might have escaped; with Merlin's usual dumb luck, it was possible. He always seemed to escape the most dangerous situation with unthinkable randomness. Just the fact that he had survived by Arthur's side many times and without armor was barely believable but he was, after all, a _sorcerer's_ son.

The heir to Camelot's throne pushed back the dark thought. Twenty years ago, during the purges, Merlin would have been burned to the stake alongside his father without further considerations. Arthur had often wondered if he would have been able to condemn so many to death as his father had. The question always left him shaken and without an answer. Somehow he knew each time there was such an accusation made in Camelot that he was hiding under the fact that he was doing his father's bidding. It wasn't cowardice; it was honoring his father. One day, the decision would fall to him. But could he condemn Merlin to death? Certainly, that would be just… _wrong_.

_Don't think about that_, he told himself.

What he had failed to ask the physician, and perhaps it was the most important question of all, was whether or not Merlin _knew_ who Emmerich was. After all, there had been no signs. Merlin had merely said that he looked familiar. But Emmerich's being a sorcerer, that was something that Arthur had not expected and he was therefore not prepared to deal with such a notion. The man was a court physician and a personal friend of King Ulrik. Vallonia was far beyond the reach of Camelot. Who was he, Arthur Pendragon, to condemn this sorcerer? What wrong had he done? And was Merlin to share his father's fate? Was Merlin guilty of anything, if only of blindness for not seeing the resemblance? Was revealing Emmerich necessarily condemning Merlin as well? Could he sentence Merlin to die, if it came to that?

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed against his own nature, against the kind of king that he wanted to be and just entirely… _wrong_.

"You cannot break this cage," murmured King Ulrik.

Arthur had barely noticed that he had been pulling at the bars while deeply absorbed in his own thoughts.

"It's magical," continued Ulrik in a hoarse voice. "My son's magic is powerful."

Arthur's mind returned to where he was. There were still many men guarding their wooden prison, but they looked less alert in their leader's absence. Some of them were walking around aimlessly in and out of the dark woods.

"These aren't Duids," Arthur mumbled so that only the king could hear. "These are _thugs_."

King Ulrik's reply was a sneer. "Bryan doesn't need magic to get men to follow him. Only… _gold_."

The bitterness in the king's voice was unmistakable. Arthur was keen to change the subject.

"Well, let's just hope that Emmerich's magic can brake through _his_ chains. You know him better. How powerful is he?"

"I did not know that he was a sorcerer."

Arthur snorted, and then he tried to cover his snorting with a loud sneeze.

The king wasn't laughing. "You do not believe me. When Emmerich came to Vallonia, he was wounded. His heart was heavy with grief and Lord knows what else. He would not speak to anyone. It was Odran that finally go through to him with his curiosity for science. It became clear that Emmerich was a great physician and of royal blood too. It didn't matter that he was lost. We took him in as one of our own. He said that he had a lot to make up for. And then one day we were talking about Camelot and he changed completely. He wanted to leave, but I forced him to stay. I _played_ him, I have to admit. I knew that he would not leave Odran. Godric had just died and we both feared for Odran and Ursulla. Emmerich then came up with this ridiculous plan to make for Camelot with the promise of marriage. I should have known that it was all for a selfish purpose."

But Arthur's mind was stuck on one particular notion.

"_Royal_ blood?"

"He has a gold medallion. It's a royal crest."

That was just too much. _Merlin's father is a physician, a sorcerer, and a noble. What next?_

"He could have got it from someone," argued the prince.

The king of Vallonia became solemn at once. "Emmerich has more nobility in him than most of my knights."

"And his magic?"

"As you saw, it is poor. He never used it in Vallonia, not even when I was forcing him to stay. He's no match for Bryan."

"Has he ever mentioned a family? A _son_, perhaps?"

"I rather think it was a brother that he lost. Tragically, it would seem."

Arthur was determined to get to the bottom of the story. "Did you ever inquire about the medallion?"

"The king leaned back against the bars. "I never had too. Everyone who knows anything about nobility knows that such a crest belongs to the house of Pendragon."

Arthur's jaw dropped. How could he _not_ have seen this?

"I inquired to Uther," the king continued. "He seemed to think that there was a small difference. There are small sword-like lines pointing towards the dragon, at least twelve of them."

Relief swept through Arthur. "It's a different house, then."

"Possibly. Not that it matters at the present time."

The king's face was hidden in the shadows now and he fell quiet. Arthur needed to gather his senses. If there was a connection between the House of Pendragon and Emmerich of Vallonia, could it mean…? Could it really be that his idiot manservant, his witless friend, his loyal companion… could they actually be related? The thought seemed just too farfetched. It wasn't possible. Surely, there would have been some sign, some clue. _Unless… _

_Gaius knows_! Arthur thought eagerly. _Gaius has to know. He knows everything!_ It would explain the constant whispering between him and Merlin. He always pretended not to notice, but half the time it would get on his nerve to see the two of them speaking in hushed voices so that he wouldn't hear. Merlin's coming to Camelot wasn't a coincidence, then. Gaius had planned all this. But for what purpose?

"You worry too much about Emmerich," said the king quite suddenly. "He's not worth your troubles. Emmerich cannot get us out of this situation. My only hope is that he will remember his pledge and find a way to get Odran to safety."

But Arthur's thoughts were not on the Vallonian prince. In the darkness of the night, some of the men had walked into the forest and had not returned. Now they were searching the black woods in turns. Only three were now guarding Arthur and the king.

The ruler of Vallonia seemed to have noticed as well. He came closer to Arthur and leaned in not to be overheard.

"Your knights?"

"I doubt it. All of them are in chains as we speak."

"What about this sorcerer of your?"

"Begging your pardon?" snapped Arthur, taken aback.

The king kept his voice down. "Bryan said that he was going to use Emmerich to draw out the other sorcerer. I assumed that Uther had such a person at his command."

Arthur rose to his feet at once, outraged, and he knocked his head hard on the wooden ceiling of the cage. "How dare you…?" he began to say. If he had had a sword, he would have drawn it instantly, but instead his attention was caught by a familiar whispering.

"_Arthur_!"

The prince was careful not to shout back. He pressed his face against the bars. Only one of the guards remained and he was dozing off against a tree stump. And then, another face in the darkness almost made him fall over in surprise.

"Merlin! What took you so long?"

"I had to take care of these thugs," said his manservant.

"How are you going to get us out of this cage," murmured the king. "It's magical."

"It's made out of wood," whispered Merlin pensively. "There's probably an enchantment to prevent you from getting out but…"

He pulled a rusty sword from behind his back and aimed it at the lock on the door. When he hit the lock, it merely fell on the ground and the door swung open.

"No getting out," said Merlin maliciously, "but no trouble getting in."

Arthur was as stunned as the king. "Merlin, I never thought I'd say this but…"

"Save it for later," cut in the servant. "Let's go."

Following Merlin's hunched body into the dark wood, Arthur immediately noticed the absence of the other guards. None of them seemed to have returned.

"Did you do this?" he hissed at his servant.

"Be quiet," was the answer.

It wasn't easy to walk and not get separated in the total darkness. After a few minutes only, Arthur thought that he had lost sight of Merlin. He took a careful step in the dark, but then the ground had vanished from under his foot. He was falling forward…

And just as suddenly, two arms were grabbing him and pulling him back on firm ground. He did not even need to hear the voice. Merlin had saved him yet again.

"What is that?" he said quietly.

King Ulrik had found a half-lit torch, and as a reply he threw it into the pit. The hole or crevasse in front of them was big enough to hold a stream or river, and at the bottom of it, faces and cloaks covered in mud, were at least ten large men pilled up one of top of the other as though they had fallen in the pit and had suddenly gone motionless.

There was a large smile on Merlin's face.

Arthur was incredulous. "How did you…?"

Merlin's reaction was to show him his fist, and in it there were a few red berries.

"What are _those_?"

"Honestly," laughed Merlin, "don't you ever read?" One impatient look from Arthur made him explain hastily. "Those are highly poisonous. They're not deadly, but they'll make you hallucinate. All I did was to crush the juice out and add a few drops in the mead. After that, it was just one blow on the head after the other. There was nothing to it really. They were all completely mind boggled. One of them actually thought I was his mother."

Arthur could not stop himself from raising his finger at Merlin. "That was actually… That was really…"

"Well done," completed the king, clapping Merlin on the back.

There was a cracking noise and all three of them rapidly kneeled behind boulder.

"Where is my son?" asked the king without further ado.

"He's fine. He's with Emmerich, my Lord," replied Merlin.

The king's face was pale and resolute now. "It ends tonight. The both of you can get Odran out of these woods. I must face Bryan. This concerns Vallonia, not Camelot."

Arthur glanced quickly at Merlin and saw the same resoluteness in his face.

"I cannot accept that," said the prince firmly. "It's suicide. Do you really think that he will stop once he's killed you? He's a sorcerer! We must find some other way."

"If you're thinking about Emmerich, you can forget it. He doesn't have that kind of power."

Arthur's mind was racing. This felt like the toughest decision he had ever made. He could not even think about sentencing _Merlin's father_ to burn at the stake. But to send the man to his death in a hopeless fight was equally wrong. Yet, he could not think of another option.

"They're going to realize that you've escaped any second now," whispered Merlin more to the king's attention than to Arthur. "We should go and find Odran and Emmerich. Nobody has to die. We'll think of something."

"There is no other way."

With a burst of strength that Arthur wouldn't have thought possible, the king rose to his feet, grabbed Merlin's rusty sword and leapt out of sight, bellowing Bryan's name furiously.

"No, my Lord!" shouted Merlin, but before he could move, Arthur was dragging him back.

Their eyes met. Merlin's were petrified, the laughter of a few minutes before completely forgotten. There was also something else in them, a kind of color that Arthur had never noticed before. The information had barely registered in the prince's mind that Merlin was already looking away, pressing his fingers against his eyelids.

"Are you still hurt?" asked Arthur worriedly.

"No, it's just… I don't want Ulrik to die."

Arthur thought for a second before deciding the course of action. Sometimes, Merlin could display a kind of wisdom, but it had never seemed like the right word to describe it. Perhaps nobility was the right word.

"Nobody needs to die," said Arthur convincingly. "We need to free the knights, not just those of Camelot but those of Vallonia as well. And then, we need to find Odran so that he can lead his men. I think it's time for the heir to the throne of Vallonia to take his place."


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Merlin felt elated. The curse that had been blocking his magic was gone and now his head was spinning. It was as though he was an overflowing river. He had never felt power surging through him so intensely. Gaius had said that he should try to feel his magic as opposed to simply using it. Now he was realising just how close his magic was to life itself. Without it, he had been physically getting weaker; in short, slowly dying. But life had returned to him now, he was swimming in it and he couldn't help grinning.

Or perhaps it was Arthur alive at his side that was making him so overjoyed.

"All right, you can stop with the smiling. It's getting on my nerves," let out Arthur.

"Admit it," said Merlin happily. "You thought that was _smart_, what I did to the guards."

Arthur's answer was to grab Merlin by the shirt and drag him sharply behind a boulder.

"We're trying not to be seen, _Merlin_."

But nothing could dampen the sorcerer's spirits. "It's easy you know. It's just a few words. Why can't you just admit it? _All right, that was smart, Merlin_," he said in his best imitation of Arthur's patronizing tone.

"Smart mouth," snorted the prince, and then he jumped behind another boulder and continued on his course.

They were making their way among the trees and rocky hillside, making as much good use as they could of the lingering darkness. It was a few hours to dawn. They had heard no alarm of any kind, which was miraculous but also disturbing. Their target was a cliff at the bottom of which there was a small cave. Arthur was certain that the knights had been taken there. Merlin was still hanging on to the rusty short sword and the prince had picked up a long weapon from a fallen guard.

"You're still smiling like an idiot, Merlin," said Arthur impatiently.

"Is that a _smart_ idiot?" replied the sorcerer.

"Oh, shut up."

The second later, Arthur was grabbing him by the shirt again and this time he brought them both forward on the ground since there was no boulder to hide behind. The sound of many feet and clanging swords passed them by. They saw the light of torches on their far right, but at least there was some distance between them and the Druids of the Black Leaf.

As he was lying with his chin on the grass, Merlin looked up at the dark forest before him and he realised with a shock that he could see clearly in the dark. It was as though the trees themselves were casting their own greenish light and even showing him a path. A soft breeze blew around him, ruffling his hair, and in the sound that it made with the leaves there was a kind of moaning.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered to Arthur.

When he looked around, he saw that the prince was standing with his hands on his hips. He seemed to be thinking and he was peering in the same direction as his manservant.

"You can get up now," said Arthur while rolling his eyes up.

As he got up, eyes fixed on the mysterious path, Merlin unconsciously leaned against a tree and he immediately felt a wave of magic surging through him. It was so powerful, almost like a whisper. He pressed his palm harder against the trunk, but the effect had only been momentary. In front of him, the green light showing him the path was getting clearer, as though the trees were showing him the way, and at the end of the path there was that cliff that Arthur was looking for.

"It's that way," said Merlin tentatively, unsure whether or not Arthur was looking at a similar sight.

But the prince was looking around aimlessly. "No, it's not. There's nothing that way, not even a faint torchlight. I think we went a little too far and we missed it."

Merlin sighed and pressed his hand once more on the same tree, hoping that it would moan or whisper again. He closed his eyes in an effort to block all other distractions. He needed to feel rather than hear the whispering.

A familiar voice brought him back to reality.

"Hey! Are you all right?"

Hearing concern in Arthur's voice wasn't something that he was used to, especially when it was directed at him.

He barely had time to mumble a 'Yeah, I'm fine' that Arthur was already standing close to him, scrutinizing him.

"What are you doing out here anyway? I thought I told you not to come."

"Gaius let me off the hook," he replied evasively.

Arthur's look of concern did not vanish. "I know what broken ribs are like. There is something more, isn't it?"

Merlin's eyes were fixed on the green-lit path that Arthur could not see. "I don't know what you mean…"

The prince pressed a hand on his servant's shoulder. "It's all right, Merlin. I _know_."

The young warlock almost died of shock. "What?" His voice was hoarse, unrecognisable.

_This is it_, he thought_. This is the thing that I've been most dreading. This is what Emmerich, my future self, meant to stop._ And then there was a second surprise: it was dread that he was experiencing, not exaltation or eagerness. _Dread_. Downright _terror_.

"Emmerich," said Arthur, searching his face. "I know who he is."

The dread was instantly replaced by doubt. "Good for you," he managed to mumble. "Because I sure don't know who he is except Ulrik's physician. If you think you know anything else, feel free to spit it out. I personally could not care less."

Arthur looked as though he had been stung. "Really?"

Merlin did his best to look away. He could not let Arthur see the relief on his face.

"Really," he concluded.

"Sorry," said Arthur. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Wasn't expecting _what_?"

_This conversation is going nowhere_, thought Merlin despairingly. His eyes kept darting toward the green-lit path. Gaius's voice seemed to echo in his mind: _Magic draws magic, Merlin. The more potent you become, the more enemies and dark sorcerers will be drawn here._ He knew that he needed to go on that path. Something was drawing him there: Bryan the Black Druid, most probably. However, he could not risk Arthur's life for this.

"Never mind about Emmerich," said Arthur, brushing the topic with his hand. "Don't you know…? Well, I thought since you're here that Gaius might have told you… Well, never mind."

But Merlin's thought were on a much more pressing matter. "Well, that was very _not_ helpful and strangely _elusive_, Sire," he said with a half-smile. Then, he became serious: "I think we should split up."

Arthur had the look of someone who had just been startled out of a dream. "What are you talking about?"

He had to be firm. "I'm hurt. I can't keep up like this much longer. I believe there's a road on the right, where we saw torchlight not so long ago. If I can find it, maybe I can find help. I bet you anything that your father has sent a small army in these woods after you. You can free the knights and then find Odran like you said. That will… you know… buy me time. Anyway, that's what you're good at and all that. And you're the one with the long sword."

"I have to go on to find the knights because I have a long sword?"

"Hell yeah."

Arthur was shaking his head. "You're not making sense. Besides, I have a bad feeling about this path there. It's making me nervous. I feel… I don't know… _watched_."

It took all of Merlin's will to detach his eyes from the green light that was stretching out all the way to his feet now. If he knew anything about magic, then Arthur's fears about that path were justified. Still, he was the only one with the power to defeat the Black Druid. Ulrik was an old man with no magic; Odran was a man of science like a young Gaius but he was still young, inexperienced and too important to die at the present time; and Emmerich… Well, he would have to deal with _him_ later. His future self should not have been involved in Vallonia, nor in Camelot, nor anywhere else for that matter.

"Your eyes!" shouted Arthur quite suddenly.

Merlin's reaction was to immediately close them and cover his face with both hands. He faked a faint "aaargh!" and bend over, mimicking pain in the best way that he could.

"Merlin! What's wrong?" cried out the prince.

"It's...err… the _concussion_. Gaius said that it may cause err… a _thrombus_ to my eyes."

From the corner of his perfectly healthy eye, he saw Arthur's face twist in apparent despair and helplessness.

"A _what_?"

"A concussion. That's when you hit your head…"

"I know what a concussion is! A _thumb-bus_, Merlin! What is that?"

Merlin renewed his fake moaning before he answered. "A blood clot."

Arthur's look of total dismay was priceless. "What can I do?"

Above anything else in the whole world, Merlin hated to lie to Arthur. However, it was just one of those moments when he had to do it. At least, this time, it was a _little_ enjoyable.

"Go get help, please," he said in a fake sob.

"Shouldn't you be sitting down?"

Merlin maintained his closed up position. "The pain! I may loose my eyes! Please hurry!"

Arthur ran in the direction of the road as quickly as only a dear could have, tripping over a branch awkwardly, and then recovering and disappearing in the darkness.

Merlin took a moment to enjoy the small and perfectly legitimate prank. It was slightly different from what he had had in mind, but the result was the same. Now he was alone to start on the green-lit path and Arthur was safely going to rejoin the knights of the rescue party. Together, they would have no trouble in freeing the prisoners since Bryan's thugs were mere hired hands with no magic.

It was therefore up to Merlin, armed only with a rusty sword and the magic that shone through his eyes, to face the Black Druid alone.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

At the end of the green-lit path, he would find Bryan. With each footstep, he was becoming more certain of it. The dark sorcerer's magic had a distinct feel. It was a bubble of anger and hate. He was in many ways like Cornelius Sigan, the vengeful warlock who had tried to take his body and soul. Bryan of Vallonia, now a Druid of the Black Leaf, was a man who had learned magic rather than inherited it. His wife's talents were inborn, but not his. His motives for taking on such a difficult study had been selfish. From what Odran had said, the half-brother Bryan had struggled and not quite found his place within his own family. The result had been the loss of his birthright and the death by his hand of the elder Godric. Bryan was, in Merlin's eyes, a broken man, and the young warlock could only feel pity for him. Perhaps this could have been his, Merlin's, fate, had he not had such a loving mother, caring guardian, and dollop head friend.

He heard a voice in his head, playful yet sinister. "Come, Emrhys. I don't bite. Come closer so that I may see your eyes."

Merlin knew that his eyes had been glowing without interruption ever since that moment when he had pretended to be hurt to Arthur. Now he was feeling guilty about the lie. It might have been the last thing spoken between them. He hated that notion. He had always expected, hoped, that at the end there would be no more secrets. Well, it was all stupid and naïve, a fool's dream; Emmerich's presence now in his life was the proof of that. There would be no moment of truth, no applause and no sounding bells, not for him, anyway. He would stay forever in Arthur's shadow or die here in this clearing; either way, his luck wasn't improving.

"Here we are," said an ominous voice that was echoing all around him. "You're not very impressive are you, Emrhys, but your _eyes_… They tell a different story, don't they?"

He had now come to the end of the path and Bryan was standing just a few feet in front of him, his black cloak thrown over his shoulders revealing muscular features. He had drawn druid symbols on his shaved head, which only amplified his imposing persona. There was another person present: his druid wife Glinda who had healed Merlin with magic. She was not standing next to her husband but she was crawling at his feet and she was in tears. Merlin immediately saw blood trickling through her fingers and she was clutching her left arm.

He could hear her plead. "Please, you have to stop. You cannot do this. Don't you realise who he is?"

"Let her go," cried out Merlin defiantly.

"How dare you speak to me?" burst out the Black Druid. "How dare you even show yourself here and now? I do not care what the others call you. You are nothing compared to me!"

"Where is King Ulrik?" asked Merlin, changing the subject.

Bryan laughed cruelly. "Ulrik is mine and at dawn justice will be done."

"You mean _murder_," said Merlin between gritted teeth.

Bryan took a step forward, his face red with anger. "It's not different from what he wanted to do to me when he found out what I could do, what I had learned. I devoted countless hours of study for _our_ people. I acquired knowledge so that I may use the power of the elements to help our small kingdom become a greater nation. And what does he do? He shuts me out like a criminal. He would have burned me at the stake!"

Merlin snorted cynically. "And now you are doing the same thing to him, is that it? And then, _what_? Do you think the people of Vallonia will give you the crown once you've killed their king? Do you think his knights will swear their allegiance to a tyrant?"

Bryan's evil smile wasn't a good sign. "Vallonia does not concern me anymore," he growled. "I have other plans now, and it is you who will set it all in motion."

Next, he took a few strides in Merlin's direction and the young warlock did his best to hold his ground. He wasn't going to run now; he had a job to do.

"What do you want from me?"

Bryan's eyes were dark and menacing. He peered into Merlin's face as though he could see deep into his soul.

"_Emrhys_," enunciated the Black Druid. "Where have you _been_?"

"What?" Merlin mumbled, surprise in his voice.

"You were the chosen one. _Where_ were you when they hunted down our kind? _Where_ were you when they lit the fires and watched innocent people burn? What did you do when the hatred of magic was spreading?"

Merlin could not endure the stare and he had to look away. Awful, pitiless guilt was building up inside him.

"I… I wasn't born!"

"You did _nothing_! They promised that you would come. You weren't _there_. The world is what it is now and evil men like Ulrik and Uther are permitted to rule because you weren't _there_."

The young sorcerer could feel his body quivering. He knew that his eyes were glowing, but if they had not, they would have been red.

"You…," he said shakily, "you're not even one of them. You weren't _born_ with magic."

"Me?" the Black Druid laughed. The magic surrounding him seemed to stir into motion. He was very powerful indeed. "I am of Earth, Water, Fire and Air. I have grown in the realm of magic and I am now more than a man. And now, Emrhys, I will add your magic to mine and shall start a war that will restore the balance between those who have power and those who don't."

Merlin's reply died in his throat. He could not see what argument could bring this man to reason.

"Please, my husband, I beg you!"

The young warlock had not seen the woman Glinda approach. Her face was wet with tears and there was much blood on her arm, but regardless of her pain and injury, she stood next to her husband and spoke resolutely.

"If you are still the man I love, you will not destroy the only hope we have left. You used to believe it, my Lord. He is now standing here in front of you. He's here for a reason…"

"Silence, woman!"

Without any forewarning, the Black Druid raised his hand and brushed his wife aside with a wave of wind and fire. Merlin, stunned, could only watch as she landed heavily on the ground, her cry piercing the lingering darkness.

"You have lost your way, woman. You are now a traitor to me. Be thankful that you are the mother of my child, otherwise you would be dead."

And then, turning to Merlin, he growled a few magic words in a low voice. Merlin immediately felt the earth beneath his feet vibrate. The trees were shaking. A sharp wind was rising in swirls around him. He had to think of something quickly.

Spotting a large rock just behind Bryan, he raised his hand and cried "_Fleoge_!" and then he guided the rock towards his opponent. But the Black Druid was faster. He took control of the rock and sent it flying towards the young sorcerer instead. Merlin shouted with as much power as he could.

"_Eorthe, hiersumie me_!"

It was enough to send the rock off course, but not enough to stop Bryan from sending him a few other boulders at great speed.

Merlin redirected each projectile with a wave of his hand while his eyes searched his surroundings for another weapon. He had the short rusty sword at his belt but he knew that it wouldn't be enough.

"_Forbearnan firgenholt_!" he cried and a branch broke apart and fell almost on top of the Druid.

"You would kill me with a _tree_, Emrhys?" laughed the evil man. "I thought you were a creature of magic. Why don't you just show me those eyes again?"

But his eyes were not glowing anymore; they were itching and burning from the effort. Bryan's magic was strong. He had to do something _now_; otherwise, he was going to loose this battle.

His mind knew the answer before the words even came out of his mouth. Bryan had given him the idea: the trees would help him.

Bracing himself for the enormous power that he was about to summon, he cried out: "_Bebeode þe arisan cwicum_!"

At once, the earth began to move. It wasn't shaking but it was moving in waves as though something huge and terrifying was crawling just below the surface. Merlin, eyes glowing, stood perfectly still as the surrounding trees' roots began to dance around him like gigantic arms and legs. He heard Glinda let out a small yelp and he saw Bryan take a step back. Now if he could only direct the roots to wrap themselves around the Black Druid…

Suddenly, he felt something sharp come in contact with his throat. Bryan was laughing on top of his lungs.

"You're no match for me, Emrhys. You may be powerful, but I'm a lot smarter."

Merlin's own rusty sword was hovering in midair, its sharp edge on the skin of his neck; however, he wasn't giving up yet. He was close, so close. The trees were alive and they were responding to him, bending to his will as the Great Dragon had. Perhaps it was a Dragonlord trait; he couldn't be sure. All that he knew was that in a few seconds he would have Bryan tied up for good.

"It's not really a good idea for you to play this game. I have a lot more war experience than you do."

Merlin gasped in horror as he saw the short sword turn around and point in a new direction: it was aiming for Glinda.

Resolutely, he lowered his eyes and the roots and branches began to fall back into their rightful places, creating a cloud of sand and earth in the process. Merlin heard rather than saw Glinda sob faintly and say that she did care if she lived or died, but he could not bear the idea of her dying to protect him. It was how Balinor, his father, had died, and he had secretly vowed that it would never happen again in his life.

_Where is he now_? Merlin thought in horror as dust was settling down around him.

And suddenly, Bryan's large hands seized him by the throat. Panicked, Merlin grabbed the druid's forearms, but they were hard as rock. He was gasping for air and he couldn't speak. And just when he thought that it couldn't get worst, Bryan lifted him off the ground so that his feet were hanging pointlessly.

He watched helplessly as the Black Druid pulled out a dagger and placed it in front of his eyes. He heard Glinda shout "No!" but her husband ignored her.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked Merlin maliciously.

Merlin was seeing up close a weapon that looked like a piece of broken mirror. Bryan was twisting it viciously at the level of Merlin's cheekbones.

"It's a special blade, merely a shard. There are only a few of these crystals. They are from the realm of magic, you see. When blood containing magic touches the crystal, the sorcerer's power can be transferred to the one holding the dagger. It's a very useful trick. Fortunately, I will not need it any longer when I have acquired _your_ powers, Emrhys. It is said that you _are_ magic, body and soul. Now it is what I will become."

Merlin's glance caught sight of Glinda and he remembered the blood on her arm. But before he even had time to draw a conclusion, he felt a sharp pain pierce his body. Bryan had stabbed him through the left shoulder. He felt his vision darken. Was he going to pass out again?

And then he fell to the ground with another wave of pain as the dagger was removed from his body. His legs gave out and he ended up sprawled on his back. He could feel the blood leaking from his shoulder. He was shaking violently. Why did it have to be so painful to die?

"Bryan! No! What have you done?"

Merlin's mind was swimming and it was hard to recognise the voice. Turning his head sideways, he saw two familiar shapes running towards him: a young man and another tall one with brown travelling boots. _Odran and Emmerich_.

Something was gleaming in Odran's hand. Merlin could hear Bryan's cold laugh; the druid was standing just over him.

And then the spark in Odran's hand flew in the air and landed in his brother's hand. There was a growl of pain and Merlin saw the crystal dagger fall on the grass besides him.

But it was too late. His strength was leaving him, and so was his magic. He saw Emmerich in a blur and their eyes met. Suddenly, Merlin was plunged into the recollections of his future self, seeing it through the other's eyes as though he was looking in a mirror. The vision wasn't dark or painful. It was familiar, like a memory. He saw himself in a gleaming chain mail fighting alongside a brave knight with a red cape. _Arthur_. And then he saw a shadow darkening the sky above Camelot and himself raising his hand to stop it with magic and this time Arthur was standing behind him. The next image was a round table and knights sitting around it and himself as old as Emmerich, wearing a red cloak and concern on his face. And then in a quick series of flashes: Uther, Morgana, Morgause, an army, swords clanging, Mordred, a ring of fire with himself in the middle, screaming. Camelot was dark and grey now. Snow was falling from the sky and unto Arthur's tomb. He caught a glimpse of Gwen, dressed in a long red cloak, riding out in the mist and Lancelot following her. And then he saw Emmerich with tears of grief on his face, disappearing in a flash of light. He thought that it was the end of the vision, but it wasn't. Next, he saw himself again, a young Merlin, holding the crystal and breaking it with a rusty sword. The image faded and he was now watching Arthur pull out a familiar blade from a rock. On his face, there were tears of joy; Arthur was laughing. He was alive and all was well.

His eyes snapped open with the sudden realisation: nothing was set. He wasn't Emmerich. He could still change what was to come. The future wasn't all about living happily ever after; it was about life and death and trying to be all that he could be. There would be as much joy as sorrow, and that was just the point. The important thing was to live.

But right now he was dying. He could see it in Glinda's face as she looked down at him. She was stroking his brows. His eyes darted to his left shoulders and he saw a pool of blood.

"I'm sorry," sobbed the woman. "He took my power to heal."

"_Gestathole_," he managed to say. At once, his shoulder felt a little better.

He only knew one spell powerful enough to stop whatever Bryan had started. It would take all that was left of his strength, but he had to try. He had seen Arthur become king, and that was enough for him. Closing his eyes, he began the incantation with all his thoughts bent on this one spark of hope: a red cloak and a crown.

"_Ic thin sawol her beluce, abide thaet ic the alyse!"_


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

The Light of Eriador had brought him to this. In these woods, the future of Camelot would be decided. He would either watch his younger self die or he would perish himself. This was the reason why he had been brought back to this place and time. The wisdom of the crystal had been to keep him away from Camelot and Arthur long enough so that the old memories of friendship would not keep him from his mission. Instead, he had been permitted to guide the young prince of Vallonia on his way to becoming a great ruler. Odran was now ready to take on his brother. Unlike Arthur, who could not bring himself to kill Morgana, his young apprentice would not fail.

It had been his fault; all of it. _Stupid Merlin_, he thought bitterly. He had been so preoccupied with protecting Arthur's life that he had also kept him from the truth. Because of his selfishness and stupidity, Arthur had been ill prepared to deal with the events that had unfolded after Morgana's betrayal. And on top of everything, he had had to suffer the loss of a friend. The nature of Merlin's secret had made Arthur hesitant and doubtful about how to deal with those who possess magic. How else should he have reacted? He could never have sentenced Merlin to death, but not to kill him was a betrayal of everything he believed in. Exile would have been a blessing compared to the pain of seeing his friend struggle with the difficult decision. It had seemed like the best way to start Arthur's reign: to end years of lying with one simple truth. Yet it had turned out to be the worst idea he had ever had. Revealing his secret had been nothing but a selfish way to prove his worth and that he wasn't, once and for all, an _idiot_.

Of all the things said on that day, those were the words that he remembered and repeated most in his head. The look of pain and betrayal on Arthur's face had stayed with him ever since. _I never thought you were an idiot, Merlin_.

A scream brought him back to reality. "Bryan! No! What have you done?"

He wasn't quick enough to catch Odran's arm to restrain him. The young prince took a leap forward and, pulling a small silver knife from under his sleeve, he threw it in a flash of light and with surprising accuracy. The blade caught Bryan's hand and he dropped his dagger with a cry of pain. But it was too late. The younger Merlin was laying on the ground, sprawled on his back, red blood flowing from his shoulder. The druid woman was crawling towards him, sobbing, as the Black Druid was pulling the knife from his wounded hand.

"You're too late," sneered the strong man as he watched his leaking hand. "His power is already mine."

"Emmerich, do something!" shouted Odran without looking at his mentor.

But Emmerich – that was his name now – was rooted on the spot; the information had rapidly registered in his brain and his course of action was no longer clear. There was so much implied in those words_: His power is already mine_. The magic of the crystals had given birth to a great many legends, most of them true, which was the reason why he had decided – or would decide in a few years – to seal the cave completely. Could this really be the Taker, as it was known in the old religion? The Crystal Dagger, or the Taker, was the weapon that had killed the first wizard and passed on his power to a mortal man as opposed to a creature of magic. To find such a weapon here couldn't be a coincidence.

There were very few spells that could take away a person's magic; he had tried one against Mordred, but it had been too dark and that power had almost killed him. It was because of that failed try that he had decided to bind Merlin's magic with an enchantment instead. Taking away someone's power was almost impossible without causing death or worst. Yet the Crystal Dagger made it all possible…

_No, __it would be wrong_, he thought immediately, shaking the idea out of his head. Magic was an element of balance in the world. To have it gathered around a single person was certain to have disastrous consequences. Moreover, he could not use the dagger himself: he wanted to get rid of Merlin's – _his_ – magic, not increase it. The person holding the dagger gets the power, such was the legend. Still, the fact that the dagger was here and now had to mean something; it always did. One thing that he knew about Camelot was that nothing ever happened there that wasn't part of a greater plan.

Emmerich's eyes did not leave the dagger as the Black Druid picked it up and placed it on his belt. Bryan looked at his wounded and bloody hand as though it was an object of wonder. He cried "_Gestathole_!" and the hand healed at once.

The Druid let out an ecstatic, evil laugh. "Yes! It is starting! I can feel it! Such _power_! It's… incredible!"

Odran was staring at Merlin's shaking body. "He's dying! How could you…? What wrong did he ever do to you?"

"More than you could ever understand, boy," sneered Bryan. "Emrys was supposed to make it all right. I guess he just got sent to the wrong place at the wrong time."

But Prince Odran wasn't even paying attention to his brother's triumphant grin. He was picking up the rusty sword that was now lying uselessly on the grass. Bryan let out a derisive laugh, but Emmerich immediately detected a slight hesitation.

"What's wrong, my Lord," he said softly, savoring the irony. "Is everything happening as it should?"

The Black Druid's hands were shaking and his eyes were glowing gold on and off. Emmerich could see doubt creeping on his face. The dark sorcerer had not expected to meet resistance from the clumsy, young, unimpressive servant boy Merlin. The transfer was not happening according to plan.

Odran seemed to have detected a potential weakness as well.

"Emmerich, help Merlin," commanded the young prince. "I'll take care of my _brother_."

"Do you really want to fight with me, Odran?" burst out the Black Druid, hiding his uncertainty under an excess of defiance. "I can crush you with a word like I did Godric. Your pathetic sorcerer-friend Emmerich cannot help you. His magic is about as powerful as that of my dear wife."

But Odran was holding his ground. He brought the sword up in an attack position.

"If you have any honour left in you, you will fight me like a man," he shouted threateningly.

"I am no longer a man," replied with Black Druid with an evil grin, his eyes shining gold.

Emmerich could feel unsteady, bubbling power radiating from him. In opposition, Odran's anger was controlled, focused.

"You've got that right, actually. Father always said you were _less_ than a man. He never intended to put you on the throne and he had good reasons. You're a _murderer_."

"No, I'm a vanquisher," sneered the Druid. "I shall rid the world that that plague that people call nobility and restore the rights of those who have true power."

His body gave a sudden shudder and Emmerich saw the young Merlin's outline twist in pain. _Hang on, Merlin_, he thought.

Odran had followed Emmerich's gaze and now he was aiming his sword menacingly at his half-brother.

"Enough! You are a traitor to your family and to your father's crown. Come on, I'm waiting!"

The dark sorcerer raised his hand and Emmerich felt the magic surrounding him shift. He was ready to react as well.

"Fight me fairly!" shouted the young prince. "Pick up your sword!"

The Black Druid's lips twisted into a sneer. "I don't even _need_ magic to destroy you."

Slowly, the tall, muscular, disavowed prince of Vallonia took off his cloak to reveal a long sword with a black handle shaped like a snake. Odran did not take a step back; instead, he aimed his sword steadily, waiting. He wasn't shaking or pale. _He is ready for this_, thought Emmerich. The prince glanced sideways at his mentor and nodded slightly in the direction of Merlin. The message was quite clear. And then, the two princes of Vallonia, one tall and black-hearted, the other young and noble began a fight of epic proportions.

Emmerich smiled briefly at his young pupil as he watched the dual from a distance. Upon his arrival in Vallonia, Odran had been his favourite. The prince was as arrogant and stubborn as Arthur, but he had the young Merlin's curiosity and Gaius' brains. Emmerich had taken to teach him not only how to cure illnesses and recognise poisonous plants, but also how to handle a sword. It was a skill that he had acquired late in his life, but thanks to Gwaine and Lancelot he was now rather agile with a blade. He had taught Odran to use speed to his advantage and that brutal force wasn't always necessary to win. The young prince had lived with the threat of the Druids of the Black Leaf hanging over his head for the whole of his life. Now he was taking his revenge and taking his place as heir to the throne all in the same fight. It was his destiny to fight his brother here and now. Emmerich's destiny, however, lay in a different path.

It was the woman, Bryan's wife, who took Emmerich to Merlin's side. Emmerich was surprised to see that the young Merlin was only half-conscious and mumbling a spell over and over again.

"_Ic thin sawol her beluce, abide thaet ic the alyse!"_

The woman was eyeing Emmerich as though he held some kind of answer.

"What kind of magic is that spell?" she asked uneasily.

"The _clever_ kind," said Emmerich elusively and with a touch of pride. "We mustn't hinder him or it could break the enchantment."

The woman brought her hands to her face and started to cry softly.

"Do not loose hope," said Emmerich. "The transfer is not complete yet."

"I cannot heal him. My power is gone. What is to become of us if Emrys dies?"

Emmerich try to sound reassuring. "He's stronger than most people think. Let's just take care of that wound first."

Tearing a hole in Merlin's shirt wasn't difficult. The wound itself was only partly healed and it was still bleeding heavily. Perhaps Merlin had tried a healing spell but with only little success. The pool of blood in which Emmerich was kneeling was an indicator that time was of the essence. Merlin's injury needed immediate intervention, magical or otherwise, or he would simply bleed to death.

"You must apply pressure here," he said plainly to the woman. Seeing a look of uncertainty on her face, he added: "I may need to assist Odran. Emrys's life is in your hands now."

As he glanced at the young prince and his brother dual, Emmerich could not help but to fall back into his own dark thoughts.

It came down to this: help Merlin or let him die. His path was not so clear now. Bryan could not be allowed to take Merlin's power; that was simply not going to happen. However, the transfer had already started. Somehow, he had to stop it. But how? Was killing Merlin the answer?

His plan had been to put a stop to Merlin's magic all along. But what if he simply _died_? Would Emmerich – Merlin's future self – vanish into thin air? Or would he be allowed to go on? And what would happen to _Arthur_ if Merlin was not there to protect him anymore? It was one thing to take away Merlin's magic and hence the threats that came with it, but it was another thing entirely to break the bond of friendship between Merlin and Arthur. Would Arthur become the king that he was meant to be without the young sorcerer by his side? These were questions to which he had no answer. Now he wished that he had Gaius to talk to, but that was another painful memory and he pushed it in a corner of his mind with great sadness. What would Gaius do to him if he brought back Merlin's body?

_No__, it cannot end like this_, he thought resolutely.

The woman's voice brought him back to reality. "Emmerich, look!"

Merlin had done something unexpected. Among his muttering, he had managed to produce a ball of blue light that was now hovering over the palm of his hand. Emmerich's mind raced back to a conversation he had had with Gaius once about a similar ball of light appearing to guide Arthur when Merlin had been poisoned by Nimueh. He had never been able to explain it, yet there it was again.

The light stayed there for a while and as he peered inside it, Emmerich realised that it was showing him images. It was showing him flashes of Arthur: Arthur unsheathing a sword, Arthur standing in front of a cheering crowd, Arthur throwing a pillow at him, Arthur pressing a hand on his shoulder, Arthur falling head first in the mud and cursing, Arthur staring out over Camelot, Arthur laughing – probably at _him_. And then suddenly, the ball of light shot into the air as high as the eye can see and it disappeared in the dark sky.

Emmerich felt his eyes fill up with tears as he watched the light float away. These had all been memories of the younger Merlin and he had forgotten most of them. His mind was so filled with recollections of death and grief that it had taken up all the room in his brain and blocked out everything else. How could he have forgotten the _pratt_ and _dollop head_ Arthur? When had he grown into a grumpy old man? Arthur would make _so much_ fun of him now. What would he think of his _idiot_ servant if he knew what he had been up to until now? Killing his younger self? What a _stupid_ idea!

"He's stopped saying the spell. What's happening?" asked the woman shakily, still applying pressure on the wound.

"_Ar…thur_," muttered the young Merlin half-consciously at that precise moment. "Find us. Follow the light!"

And then he let out a long sigh and he stopped moving altogether. He was pale and his breathing was scarce.

"He's fading," sobbed Glinda. "He's not going to last…"

Another loud voice filled the air. "Emmerich, for Heaven's sake, snap out of it! You have magic. Save him now or I'll strike you down where you stand!"

Emmerich did not need telling twice: his mind was already made up. Taking away the woman's hand, he placed his own over Merlin's shoulder and said: "_Thurhhaele_!"

Immediately, Merlin took a deep breath and his chest began to move up and down normally. The wound wasn't completely healed but the bleeding had stopped. It was the most that he could do if he wanted Merlin to stay out of the fight. In a short moment, his younger self would regain his senses but he would still be weak from the lost of blood.

The woman was beaming at him fondly. "You _are_ a good man, Sire."

But Emmerich's mind was racing. Odran's attention had been diverted away from his fight a second too long. The prince was struggling against a much stronger opponent. Bryan was delivering blow after blow with increasing potency while Odran's strength was wavering. He had to find a solution fast.

"Has your husband used that dagger against many sorcerers?" he asked to Glinda.

"Yes, and now he has Emrys's magic…"

"I doubt it," said Emmerich thoughtfully. "Merlin's magic is part of his life force and he is still alive. Merlin _is_ magic. His magic can be blocked, or impaired, or turned against him, but it can never be passed on. Many have tried that and failed…"

His voice trailed off as his eyes fell on the two fighting princes. Odran had fallen on his back and he was fighting from his position on the ground. Bryan's eyes were glowing gold and his sword was powerful. The next blow sent Odran's rusty sword on the grass and out of reach. Bryan was going to strike…

"Arthur!" Emmerich shouted with all of his might.

He became aware only after that he had used the wrong name, but it didn't matter. As he rushed to Odran's aid, he enunciated a spell and a wall of fire suddenly burst to life between the two fighting brothers. It was powerful magic by any reckoning, but for him, it was nothing, a breath, a glimpse of what he could do. He was, after all, also the one called Emrys.

"Well, well," laughed the Black Druid as he turned his attention to the sorcerer now standing between him and the prince. "This should be interesting."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"_Astrice_!" cried out Emmerich.

He immediately felt the wave of magic take birth in him and he sent it in the direction of the Black Druid with a simple movement of his hand.

The druid Bryan stopped the spell quickly, but he was compelled to take a step back.

"What is this?" cried the Druid, glancing at Emmerich as though seeing him for the first time. "You are no match for me, old man."

Odran was speechless, but nevertheless he had scrambled to his feet and now he was eyeing his mentor with a mixture of pride and awe on his face.

"You are nothing compared to him," the prince shouted.

"We shall see," laughed the Druid. "So you like to play with fire… _Forbearnan_!"

It was as though the air itself had caught fire. An enormous ball of light was flying in Emmerich direction.

He cried "_Gescildan_!" and watched Bryan's face change as a great shield of pure magic appeared in front of him and changed the ball of fire into harmless smoke.

"I must say you played your part well," snorted the Black Druid. "I would never have thought such magic possible coming from you."

"You have seen nothing yet!" replied Emmerich.

And then he cast a ring of fire around Bryan.

He used the distraction to yell to Odran. "This is my fight now. Stay out of the way!"

The young prince did not need telling twice. He rushed to Merlin's side, glancing momentarily at the two sorcerers, the rusty sword still firmly in his hand.

Bryan's next move was to set most of the clearing on fire; however Emmerich was quicker and more focused. He said softly "_Tidrenas_!" and a heavy rain started to fall, extinguishing the fires but also producing clouds of mist around them.

They exchanged another series of spells which Emmerich found not difficult to block. But between each spells, he glanced back at Merlin, Odran and Glinda. The young sorcerer was stirring now. He was struggling to regain his magic and the battle of will was beginning to show on the druid's face as well.

This time, the druid conjured a wall of rock surrounding Emmerich.

The old sorcerer shouted back "_Ic abietee paet stanhol_!**"**

A hole was blown instantly in the center of the wall, sending rocks flying at Bryan. But as he peered at his opponent through the cloud of dust, Emmerich saw something else: the Crystal Dagger at Bryan's belt had begun to glow of a faint blue light.

The Black Druid took his head between his hands and let out a low moan. "What magic is this?"

Emmerich could not help the pride he felt. It was Merlin's will that was reversing the effect of the dagger: the enchantment he was using was merely a tool given to him by the Great Dragon. It had worked before against Cornelius Sigan and it would save his life again in about twenty years against the powerful Mordred. Such magic could not be taught from a book. It was part of him body and soul.

Bryan was bent over in pain now.

"You can never become Emrys," said the warlock from the future. "He _is_ magic and you are not. This is power beyond your understanding."

"My power isn't only the old religion," muttered the druid, catching his breath. "Maybe I cannot have _his_ magic, but it doesn't mean that I am defeated. Men! To me!"

Suddenly, on all sides, Bryan's thugs appeared with their swords in hands, yelling and growling menacingly as they rushed forward. All of them – there were at least twenty or thirty – were aiming straight for Emmerich.

He had only spells for protection; he didn't even have a sword. Why did he always get into these kinds of situations? Still, he had kept more than one brute at bay with flying rocks and balls of fire at different points in his life. Magic had always been his best weapon. His attackers were thrown off their feet one by one while Bryan seemed to be struggling with the effects of the reversing spell.

"One hundred gold pieces to the one who brings me the sorcerer's head!" he yelled.

As Emmerich wheeled around to avoid a flying knife sent in his direction, he saw Odran standing besides him, sword in hand.

"What are you doing?"

"You're an _idiot_, you know that?" shouted the prince. "What were you thinking keeping something like that from me?"

"It was for your own good," mumbled the sorcerer.

"_Bullshit_."

"And I am _not_ an idiot."

"Merlin's coming around, but he's weak," said Odran while swinging his sword at an opponent. Bryan's men were circling them now.

"We don't need _him_," snapped back Emmerich. "We need _Arthur_."

But then he realised that he no longer had Bryan in his sight. His eyes darted across the clearing, and then he saw him: the druid was standing over Merlin, holding off the woman with one hand, aiming the blue dagger at Merlin's throat with the other.

"No!" cried Emmerich.

As he screamed, the ground began to vibrate and all of those who stood in Emmerich's path were sunken knee deep into mud. He reached Bryan not a moment too soon; the druid was about to deliver a fatal blow. He stopped the dark sorcerer's hand with magic and then the young Merlin's eyes snapped opened and he rolled out of the way.

"Kill them! Kill them all!" yelled the druid.

Bryan's men rushed forward. Odran took up position in front of the woman Glinda, his rusty sword gleaming faintly in the pale morning light as it crashed down on his attackers. Emmerich was trying hard to maintain his magical grip on Bryan. If he could use that grip and squeeze hard enough, then Bryan might release the Crystal Dagger and Merlin would grab it and Arthur might actually show up and…

The next thing that he knew was a sharp pain on his back. The magic around him shifted. It was no longer in his control, like a river interrupted. He was falling. Was this the end of the great sorcerer Merlin? This wasn't how he had planned it. Then again, his plans never really worked out as expected. Even the legendary Light of Eriador had played a trick on him by sending him to Vallonia. He had never _ever_ been in control of anything. It was annoying beyond belief. And all the while he kept repeating over and over in his head the same irritating question.

_Where the Hell is__ that _pratt_ Arthur when you need him_?


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The words were no longer necessary. The magic was _his_ and it wasn't going anywhere.

With that thought, Merlin's eyes snapped opened. The first image that he got was that of a glowing blue light descending upon him_. This can't be good_, he thought as he rolled out of the way.

Immediately, he felt that his body was weak. There was a sharp pain in his shoulder. His vision was still blurry. He wasn't sure if he could even get up. He heard the clanging of swords close to him and then, a familiar young man's long desperate scream.

"Emmerich! No!"

Merlin forced himself to look. The sorcerer and court physician who was also his future self had crumbled to the ground and he wasn't moving. The Black Druid Bryan was standing over him with the Crystal Dagger in his hand, but the magical weapon was no longer glowing. The dark sorcerer was now looking at the weapon as though it had betrayed him.

"You!" he yelled, pointing at Merlin who had managed to stand. "You're no one. You're just a servant! How did you do it? How can you control the power of the Taker?"

"Let them go," said Merlin as defiantly as he could.

Bryan's men had caught Odran and Glinda and they were both struggling with a sword across their throats.

Madness was on Bryan's face.

"I want to know," screamed Bryan and Merlin clearly felt the distinctive bubbling magic.

"You'll have to kill me," replied the warlock.

Bryan merely sneered. He stepped unceremoniously over Emmerich's agonising body and strode to where Odran was standing. He then pointed the Crystal Dagger at the young prince's throat.

"Tell me, Emrys, or I will kill him," he declared. "I will kill the last prince of Vallonia as I killed his father and those traitors will be no more."

_Arthur, where are you__?_, thought Merlin despairingly. And then, as though he was being answered, he heard the sound of many unsheathing swords and a clear familiar voice.

"Knights of Camelot and of Vallonia! On my command! Charge!"

The clanging of armours, swords and shields was enough to scare Bryan's thugs. The one holding Odran released his grip only a little and the prince took this opportunity to brake free of his captor. Then, in an outburst of rage, he caught his brother's wrist, the one which held the dagger. He was using all of his strength to turn the dagger around on its owner.

"_Gehaeftan_!" cried Merlin in an effort to restrain Bryan.

"You killed him!" spit Odran in his brother's face. "You killed our father. How could you?"

"He deserved it," snorted the dark sorcerer, struggling against Odran's grip and his magically bind body.

The Crystal Dagger was coming closer and closer to his chest.

"Then you really are the lesser son."

The gurgling sound was enough to tell Merlin that it was over. Odran's face was stern and he did not hold his brother's body to the ground as he had done for his knights after the attack in the King's Hall. He merely handed out the dagger to Merlin and then he ran to his mentor's side.

The knights had rapidly taken over and now they were chasing the leaderless horde across the clearing. Merlin glanced rapidly around and saw Arthur swinging his long sword at man twice his size but with no difficulty at all.

"_Merlin_," said a hoarse voice.

He didn't want to see his older self die. It felt awkward. It was a reminder of something that was going to happen to him sooner or later. Moreover, he wasn't sure if he was happy with the way that he had turned out as a person.

As he watched, uncertain if he should step closer, he saw Odran turn over his former physician and return him on his back. He had check the wound and his diagnosis wasn't good.

"No man is worth your… tears, Odran, but occasionally, tears are… acceptable," muttered the old sorcerer to his pupil.

Odran did not reply. His eyes were red and his lips were tight. He placed Emmerich's head on a folded piece of cloth and after that he rose to his feet, still silent, and nodding in Merlin's direction.

When he saw that Merlin was hesitating, he whispered: "If you have anything to ask, now is the time."

Merlin felt young and insignificant as he kneeled besides the man who was his older self. The old sorcerer's strands of white hair were now mixed with dust and rain in such a way that he looked grey and old. On his face, Merlin could see years of struggling and fighting. What he really wanted to know was the proportion of the grief that was really related to his magic.

"It's all right," said Emmerich in a hoarse voice.

Merlin was aware that many ears were listening, but still he could not let _himself_ die. "I can heal…"

"No, you mustn't," cut in the old physician. "Arthur is here. He's seen me. It would give away your magic. It must remain a secret."

"Yes, you've made that clear," mumbled the young sorcerer.

Emmerich laughed a little and then he coughed and a drop of blood appeared on the corner of his mouth.

"I was wrong… to intervene," he said weakly. "Arthur would call me an _idiot_… yet _again_… for taking that _stupid_ Light… of Eri…"

"You're not an idiot," replied Merlin.

"Better get used… to it," snapped Emmerich.

He coughed again. His breathing was unsteady.

"Arthur is… _here_. To have seen him – _served_ him – again was… _priceless_."

Merlin glanced up and saw that the prince was no longer fighting. He was watching in the distance as though he meant to give Merlin and Emmerich some privacy.

"Don't give up… on him," whispered Emmerich. "Don't _ever_… He is… everything we… hoped."

With those words, his chest stopped moving and his eyes became glossy. He was gone.

Merlin took a few minutes to look into the face again but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything. It was like watching a relative he had never known or had no recollection of. This situation just wasn't _normal_. In his heart he knew that whoever Emmerich was, who he had been or would become, that didn't mean anything anymore because he – _Merlin_ – was going to be different. Emmerich's death would not be in vain; he was going to change his fate. From now on, he was going to make a new future for himself.

At the present time, though, he felt drained and weak. He wanted to sleep. He wanted someone to put him on a horse, drop him on his bed in Gaius's chambers and wake him in two days with a nice breakfast.

When he finally looked up, having hidden the Crystal Dagger under his shirt, he saw that Arthur was now standing next to Odran. The remaining knights had gathered around the young prince as well. Arthur's tone was solemn when he spoke and it was meant for all to hear.

"The King is dead. Long live the King."

At once, all the Knights of Vallonia, those of Camelot, and even Arthur Pendragon, kneeled in front of Prince Odran in a gesture of deep respect and allegiance. The prince was still speechless. He seemed so young, but at the same time he was ready.

On his cheek, there was a single tear.


	22. Chapter 22

Author's note:

This is the final chapter, but you have to read the epilogue too. It's worth it! Many things revealed…

Enjoy

Chapter 22

The funeral was held outside of the city walls. Two fires were lit. The biggest one was for King Ulrik whose body Arthur had found in one of the tents of the Druid camp. It was confirmed by one of the knights that Bryan had killed the king with one swift stroke of his black sword. The second fire was for the physician Emmerich who had during his short time in Vallonia earned the respect of the king's knights and of the young prince Odran.

As for the Druid of the Black Leaf and disavowed prince of Vallonia Bryan, his body had been buried in the clearing where he had died. A silent prayer for the salvation of his soul had been held by his brother, his widow Glinda and his young son William. Both the woman and the young boy were to follow the party back to Vallonia. Glinda, it would seem, was going to bring back the peace between the Druid clan and the nobility in that region. Odran was to set out after the funeral.

As Merlin watched the assembly around the two fires, he could not help but wonder at the kind of life that his future self had expected to have whether in Vallonia or in Camelot. Emmerich could have changed more than one event with his knowledge. He could have become influential. Yet he had chosen a path of non-interference, at least as far as everybody else was concerned. It made sense to Merlin that his older counterpart had wished to stay away from Camelot and Arthur. There were too many memories there and he might not have been able to go through with his mission. It made less sense, however, that Emmerich's opinion of his younger self was so distorted by recollections of hurt and grief that he would take such extremes measures. As a habit, he had always tried not too think too much ahead. He could not bear the idea of loosing Gaius, his mother and least of all _Arthur_. But if there was one thing that he had learned from Arthur, it was bravery and courage. Trying to change the past seemed somehow – Merlin shivered at the thought – like he had turned into a coward. But who was he to judge? He had not been through what Emmerich had. Perhaps history was going to repeat itself at Arthur's death, and that was a maddening thought. In any case, fate had restored the natural order of things. All he could hope for now was that Emmerich's death had not been in vain.

Merlin took a few minutes to glance at the Crystal Dagger – the _Taker_ – which was now in his care. The clear blade was tinted with dried blood but he could not bring himself to clean it. It was a reminder of the many lives the weapon had taken including, in some strange twisted way, _his_.

"_Merlin_! Finally!"

The young sorcerer had barely noticed his friend and mentor Gaius striding towards him. The physician was wearing dark red robes with golden thread for the funeral. The assembly was scattering now and many people were speaking in small groups. The fires were dying out and the air was heavy with smoke and sorrow. Peeking above Gaius's shoulders, Merlin could clearly see Arthur, his red cape blowing in the soft late day breeze. The crown prince of Camelot was standing solemnly next to (the idea had not entirely sunk in yet) _King_ Odran.

"How did it go?"

"It's done," whispered Merlin, beaming at his guardian.

Gaius wrapped his arms around him and patted his back. "I'm proud of you, my boy."

Merlin ruffled the hair on the back of his head, sudden doubt overcoming him. "They're going to sound the warning bell soon," he murmured. "I wasn't exactly discreet."

"You did the right thing," said Gaius softly. "How did you manage it?"

Merlin smiled proudly. "It was as I thought. Arthur dispatched some of the guards to the funeral. The castle was almost deserted. It wasn't very hard getting inside the vault. I broke the lock this time, though, so that I wouldn't get the blame being the only person with Arthur who has access to the keys. And then all that I had to do was take the crystal…"

He let his voice trail, allowing the vision to fill his mind. It had been a cascade of sharp images, some dark and some bright. Holding the crystal had brought back that horrible feeling of _knowing_, except that this time the message was blurry, like looking through murky water. He had seen Arthur and himself fleetingly and nothing to suggest the chaos that Emmerich had hinted at. It was confusing and reassuring at the same time, but mostly it was a relief to see a future that was not set in stone.

"Merlin?" murmured Gaius, bringing him back to the present time.

"I broke the crystal. I smashed it against the wall. It released the Light of Eriador."

He saw Gaius's face twist into a worried expression.

"But I didn't ask anything of it. It flowed through me and nothing happened. And then it just _vanished_."

"And the Crystal Dagger? What are you intending to do with it?" asked the physician.

Merlin looked at the weapon in his hand. He did not really feel that the decision belonged to him. The dagger had killed Bryan along with many other sorcerers; this was how the Black Druid had acquired his power. He didn't like to admit it, but the dark instrument seemed tied to the fate of the young King of Vallonia. Then again, Merlin was not sure that relinquishing the powerful Taker to a newly appointed king was a wise decision.

He was wrapping the dagger in a piece of cloth and next to Emmerich's broken medallion when he noticed Arthur striding towards him. The prince looked livid.

"Where HAVE you _been_?"

Merlin looked around innocently. "Who? Me?"

But Gaius was quicker to come up with a lie. "I'm afraid that I'm to blame, Sire. I sent Merlin on an errand."

The prince sighed deeply in an effort to control his temper. "And this errand couldn't wait until _after_ the funeral?"

Gaius remained blank. "I'm afraid no, Sire."

Merlin was a little annoyed with Arthur's controlling attitude.

"You gave me three days off, so technically I don't have to _be_ anywhere," he said stubbornly.

Arthur passed his hand over his brows. It was very uncharacteristic of him not to snap back some remark at his manservant. He seemed deep in thought.

"I specifically requested that you'd be _here_, Merlin."

"Well, I was… _mostly_," said the young warlock wittingly. "I really don't see how that's any of your business."

"It's a royal funeral. It's an important event. It could… I don't know… _mean_ something some day."

Merlin shot an inquiring look to Gaius, but the physician's face was still blank.

"Sure," said the young man half-jokingly. "I'm planning on going to many funerals and compare it with this one to know which is the gloomiest."

"Is everything a joke to you, Merlin?" snapped the prince so forcefully that three or four knights turned their heads to see what was going on.

"You're the one who is making a big deal about it. I told you already that I don't _care_ about Emmerich…"

He suddenly felt Gaius's hand pressed on his forearm and he knew that he had gone too far. Emmerich was after all someone important to Odran. He meant no disrespect, but he couldn't let Arthur know the truth either.

Arthur's tone was sorrowful. "He was a good man," he breathed out.

Merlin immediately felt ashamed and… _skeptical_. This was very unlike Arthur not to scold him or humiliate him because he had put a toe out of line. Instead, the prince was pale and gloomy. He had the look of someone whose mind is in a different place.

It was Gaius who broke the silence. "I think he was too," he said softly.

Merlin was about to add something, but he was interrupted by a woman's presence.

Lady Ursulla was walking smoothly towards Arthur, wearing a black flowing gown. Two maids were following her with their heads bowed low. One of the maids was Gwen. She winked at Merlin as Ursulla came to level with Arthur and on her face there was a discreet smile.

"Lady Ursulla," said Arthur unsteadily as though he had been startled.

"Prince Arthur," replied the Lady of Vallonia.

Arthur was formal in manner and in tone. "Please allow me to express my deepest sympathy…"

"You already did, just a few minutes ago," cut in Ursulla. "I completely understand your dismay, though. Odran is young and you see yourself bearing the same burden someday. I have faith in my brother. He will be a great king and so will you."

Merlin had to hide a snort of laughter. He had never seen Arthur so taken aback before.

"Well, I…" mumbled the prince.

"I shall miss Camelot and the friends I have made here. I do hope – I _know_ – that you will find the Lady Morgana. When you do, please be so kind as to send word to Vallonia. I shall be glad to meet her. Farewell, Prince Arthur."

And with those words, she turned her heels and left. She seemed to almost glide between the knights who were assembled near the castle gate and all of them were looking at her mesmerizingly.

"How did you do it?" Merlin heard Arthur whisper to Gwen's ear.

Gwen was smiling widely. "We became good friends."

As though to confirm what Gwen had just said, the Lady Ursulla wheeled around and waved in Gwen's direction. Guinevere waved back and went to join her.

"_Women_," Merlin mused as he watched them leave.

However, Arthur was looking gloomier then ever.

"What is it?" asked Merlin.

"We need to talk…"

But again Arthur was interrupted by another arrival.

Odran was tapping on his shoulder. The young king who had also been a physician's apprentice for many years did not wear an elaborate outfit. He wore a simple green tunic with a black cloak and a circlet of gold on his forehead. His usual silver knives that were both weapons and tools hung gleaming at his belt.

Merlin bowed his head low in acknowledgement and he was surprised when Arthur did the same.

"My Lord," said the prince solemnly. "My thoughts will be with you on your journey home."

"There will be none of that between us, Arthur Pendragon," said Odran cheerfully. "Vallonia and Camelot shall be friends forever."

He extended his hand to the crown prince of Camelot who shook it wholeheartedly. However, Merlin observed, Arthur's expression of gloom did not improve. Instead, he bowed to Odran and took his leave without another word.

The young king was not as disturbed by this as Merlin was. Indeed, he smiled to Merlin and made a gesture to shake his hand as well, but as it would seem awkward to see the king shake a servant's hand, Merlin's immediate reaction was instead to present him the cloth with the Crystal Dagger and the medallion. The king of Vallonia glanced at the two objects for a short moment while Gaius and Merlin kept silent. The next thing that Merlin knew, Odran had thrown the dagger into the fire. Merlin watched the crystal shine in the flames, shiver in the heat, and then finally it broke.

It was as though a bone in his shoulder had broken. He immediately winced in pain, grabbing his half-healed wound which was throbbing under the bandage. His vision blurred for a moment and he felt the hands of both Odran and Gaius supporting him.

"I guess I'm not exactly ready to do my chores tomorrow," he mumbled after the wave of pain had passed.

Odran looked as worried as Gaius. "What is your diagnosis?" asked the Vallonian.

Gaius appeared to think for a moment. "The magic of the crystal is undeniable. This wound may never fully heal."

"Dark magic?" whispered Odran with concern in his voice.

"Dark or not, it's the kind of magic that doesn't agree with Merlin and that is the main thing."

"Well, I guess that proves just how special you are," snorted the young king in an effort to sound cheerful.

"There's been plenty of a proof already," Gaius added fondly.

Odran's reaction was to clasp Merlin's back. "Then it would be a good idea for you to stay away from dodgy crystals, sword fights and anything else that can inflict bodily harm."

Gaius smiled mischievously. "Well, that's practically _anything_ in Merlin's case."

The young sorcerer could not help but roll his eyes up. "Thanks for that. I'll keep it in mind," he replied sarcastically.

Then Odran became formal. "If ever you are in need, Vallonia will welcome you," he declared. "Keep Emmerich's medallion. Let it be a token of friendship. Any one of my knights will recognize it anywhere."

Merlin took a moment to consider the medallion. The crest on it was a golden dragon, now pierced ominously at its heart, and the lines pointing towards the dragon were, Merlin realized, tiny swords. If this token had belonged to Emmerich, then the dragon had to be the Camelot crest and the tiny swords would be… Arthur's knights? Why not? After all, the medallion did come from the future.

"Do you think it means anything?" murmured Odran.

"It's probably nothing," said Merlin softly while stuffing the medallion in his pockets.

At the same time, the warning bell began to chime. Immediately, the knights of Camelot left the pyres to regroup at the caste gate, but as Merlin glanced at the scene, he realized that Arthur wasn't moving. Instead, the prince was glaring in his direction as though deep in thought, almost in a trance. It wasn't until Sir Leon pressed a hand on his shoulder that Arthur actually looked around.

"He looks a bit distraught, doesn't he?" Odran said softly.

"I don't know. He was trying to tell me something…"

He glanced at Gaius, hoping to find some sort of answer, but the old physician was silent and unreadable. He bowed low to Odran, taking his leave, and started to walk in Arthur's footsteps towards the castle gate.

"He's important to you, isn't he?"

"He's like my father," said Merlin solemnly.

Odran looked amused. "Prince Arthur, I mean."

"Well, you know, he's an arrogant _pratt_, but still he has… potential," replied Merlin without much thought.

The young king laughed a clear laugh. "Not many servants would dare to say that out loud. You really are one of a kind. I do not doubt that one day Arthur will come to realize how much."

And with those words, King Odran of Vallonia took his leave and Merlin was left with the uneasy feeling that his future held many trials for him, more in fact than what he had already gone through. His only wish was that he would, years from now, look back at these memories not with regret as Emmerich had, but with fondness and pride.


	23. Epilogue

Author's note:

Many people asked about this. Arthur thinks Emmerich was Merlin's father. So if you're intrigued, you have to read the epilogue!

Epilogue

Gaius was not a man of many words. He found long conversations tedious and tiresome. On the rare occasions when he was forced to make small talk, he always felt insignificant and awkward. Merlin, on the other hand, did tend to babble about trivial matters but Gaius suspected that he was only doing it to annoy Prince Arthur. He was on the whole thankful to be surrounded by men like Arthur and Uther who knew to speak only when something important had to be said. And this trait was particularly why the old physician was surprised and intrigued to find the prince sitting on a stool in front of the fireplace in his chambers. He had expected to have to answer questions sooner or later, but he had not thought that the prince would initiate this conversation himself and so early after the funeral.

"My Lord," said Gaius as he approached the young prince.

Arthur's eyes were fixed on the fire.

"Where's Merlin?"

"I sent him to the apothecary with a long list of things to buy. I do not expect him to be back before dark."

"And his injury? He tried to hide it but I saw him wince this morning."

"I will look at it," said Gaius with mild concern, "however, I do not think that you need to worry. Merlin is stronger than he looks."

Arthur remained staring at the fire. "It's my fault, Gaius. I didn't get there soon enough."

Gaius took position on a stool near the prince and he tried to get a look at his young face.

"I should have seen right through him when he told me that he was hurt," Arthur continued. "I was running for help, but in the wrong direction. And then I saw…"

His voice trailed off.

"What did you see, my Lord?"

Arthur glanced momentarily at Gaius. "A ball of light. Pure, beautiful, blue light. It was floating in front of me, and I had seen it before, so I followed it."

Gaius felt perplexed and intrigued. The importance of what Arthur had just revealed to him couldn't be ignored.

"You have seen this light before, Sire," he asked innocently.

Arthur had crossed his arms on his chest.

"When Merlin was poisoned by the Morteus flower and I was lost in that cave, a ball of light showed me the way out."

"You believe it to be the same light?"

"It _was_ the same light. I'd recognize it anywhere. I… I think it was Emmerich."

Gaius was slightly taken aback.

"But you just said…"

"I know what you're thinking," cut in the prince. "Emmerich was nowhere near Camelot when Merlin was poisoned. How could he have helped then? Unless it wasn't me that he was trying to help…"

This time, instead of finishing his sentence, Arthur stood up and began to pace around the room, glancing at Gaius a few times as he seemed to wrestle with some thoughts.

"I _know_, Gaius," he finally said. "_Emmerich_. I know who he is. He's Merlin's father."

Gaius tried to keep his countenance. It wasn't surprising that the prince had come with this conclusion. But maybe there was an opportunity there…

"You don't deny it," said Arthur, his eyes fixed on the old man. "Then it is true."

Gaius took a deep breath. He would have to choose his next words very carefully.

"I made certain promises even before I took him in, Sire. I am not at liberty to deny or acknowledge anything."

"Indeed," replied Arthur, "but you cannot deny that Emmerich had magic. What do you have to say about that?"

"Did you see him use his magic yourself, Sire?"

"I did."

"And?"

"He wasn't very powerful. In fact, he seemed to struggle even with an easy spell."

"And what does that tell you, my Lord?"

Arthur stopped his pacing to look into Gaius's eyes. He seemed to think for a while, and then the answer appeared in his stare before he even spoke.

"Magic so weak wouldn't have passed on to his child, would it? Emmerich probably wasn't born with magic though he may have studied it. Bryan had the Crystal Dagger to acquire power while Emmerich only had books of spells. And he only used magic because it was absolutely necessary."

Now it was Gaius's turn to stare at the fire.

"There was a time when studying magic for healing was as natural as studying herbs. It's possible that in his many years as physician Emmerich acquired a few spells. We all did, back then…"

He couldn't finish his sentence; this was a topic for another conversation.

"I guess that doesn't make him a sorcerer then. Or at least not a _wicked_ one."

Gaius glanced into the prince's young innocent eyes that were full of questions and doubts.

"What does your heart tell you, my Lord?"

The old physician watched as the prince struggled with the idea. Arthur had yet to realize the full extend of his father's crimes, but tonight wasn't the right time for awakenings.

"That Emmerich shouldn't be condemned for using magic in a time of need; nor should his _son_."

"Nor should his son," Gaius repeated softly.

It was as though the prince and the physician had come to a silent understanding. Still, Gaius saw another dark thought on the prince's face.

"Merlin must never know this. No one can know. It would… ruin _everything_ for him."

Gaius nodded solemnly and then Arthur made for the door, but at the last moment, he paused, his eyes fixed on the door.

"One last thing, Gaius. Was _Merlin's father_ a noble?"

This was an opportunity like no other. Not even Merlin knew that final fact about his real father. Gaius felt his mind filled with a confidence that he did not know he had. His reply was short and incontrovertible.

"He was."

THE END

Author's notes:

I hope you enjoyed this story. It was fun to write.

Reviews make me believe I actually write fanfiction for a reason besides my own personal entertainment.

I've seen a few noble-Merlin fics out there so this is an opening for one.

Thanks and

Merlin rules !


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